


Inquisitor: I am Not

by Soruga0Bandgeek



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 30,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6828601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soruga0Bandgeek/pseuds/Soruga0Bandgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keija had been a simple girl, who became a simple thief, who left and became a simple wife. And it all started when she decided to help her dear old mentor leave Skyrim, it didn't really get any simpler after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

 

 

**.Beginning.**

**4E 194 Suns Height**

She was a mouse of a girl when Mercer first found her, though her ability with a bow was nothing to scoff at, at least when it came to hunting. Feeling a hint of pity for the child, the Breton man left her with some tips. He would later come to regret that when she followed him back to Riften, but by then it was too late.

The girl looked at him with a scarred smile, her eyes wide and pleading and Mercer was about to tell the kid off, to head towards the orphanage.

“I am Keija,” she said, trying to keep her voice smooth and mature, but it was too high pitched, too childlike, too innocent. “You helped me when others wouldn’, I wanted to give you this.”

She held up a bundle and Mercer eyed it cautiously as he untied the knot that held the cloth together. The older man was taken back by the soft furs that she was presenting him with. It was that moment that ruined Mercer forever, before he realized it he was already dragging the girl beside him and tossing her towards Brynjolf who was a little more than shocked to find a twelve year old thrust into his hands.

“Hello.”

“Mercer?”

“New recruit, been following me since Shor’s Stone,” Mercer bit out as he dropped his pack on his desk, hands coming to rub at his face at the mess he had brought himself into. Pulling his hands away, his eyes landed on the still smiling visage of the child, whose only damage seemed to be the scars that ran along her right cheek and over her mouth.

What was this heart he had now? He wasn’t Brynolf, picking up strays to try to outfit the guild, yet here he was doing such thing. Though if he was honest with himself it was a complete accident.

“Get Niruin on her, she’s a good shot,” Mercer locked eyes, his dark ones finding the light fiery red ones of hers – an odd color for an Imperial girl – “You got two months to prove yourself kid, no more no less, got it?”

Hopefully her energy made up for her beginners skills, because whatever was to come their way they were going to need it.

 

+++  
**4E 197 Rains Hand**

“Starting to slow down eh old man?”

The graying Breton didn’t deign that with a response or his attention. He had come to learn that ignoring the ashy haired Imperial was better than actually paying her attention. There was a feeling of something fluttering against his face and he tried to swat it away, only for it to return.

“Damn it girl, what is it?”

The almost fifteen year old tutted, pulling away the bird’s feather as she sat herself down on the edge of the desk.

“Oh come on,” she almost whined, “You are behind that desk most if not all the time I see you, I want to know if you finally welded yourself into it.”

In the five years Keija had been with them, she never let up on bothering him. At first it was nice, he was the man who took her off the streets, on the other hand the girl could be bloody annoying when she wanted too.

“Leave Keija,” he grumbled out, ignoring the amused looks of the other thieves. “Unless you’re willing to help with this mess.”

She was gone faster than you could say ‘jackpot’, though the scraping of the chair wasn’t one he thought should be echoing about the cistern. Looking up, the girl was dragging over one of the wooden chairs and situated it opposite his. As he stared down into brilliant red, the Breton relented, feeling his age in every bit of his body.

He handed her documents for the less frivolous things, along with a quill and a bottle of ink. The two worked in a companionable silence, questions being asked at the beginning as Keija tried to check in what the other thieves had brought in and what had been used in supplies.

Eyeing the rather diligent girl, Mercer shrugged and returned to his work.

 

+++

**4E 200 Frostfall**

He was sure he was dead, but he was waking, the water in his lungs causing him to cough and hack away for who knows how long. A hand soothed over his forehead, warmth emanating from the calloused hand.

Mercer didn’t know if he woke in that moment or days later, but it was to the same feeling, this time warmth was all around him and a familiar smell urged for him to wake. Slowly blinking his eyes open, Mercer looked about the room he was put up in, his eyes catching on some of the trinkets that were hung around.

One in particular caught his gaze and he sat up as quick as a bolt of lightning, only to feel lightheaded and begin to fall backwards. There was the sound of footsteps and he was caught and laid down gently.

“Seems like you’re not as graceful as you once were old man.”

Only one person ever called him ‘old man’ to his face and as he looked up and saw the vibrant red eyes of someone he hadn’t seen in a while, well who was he to not jump at a friendly face.

“Mercer? Are you well?”

When he pulled the girl – no woman – into a hug, Keija thought that the Thieves Guild master had finally lost it.

“Should have let me die girl,” she heard him mutter into her shoulder, his head shaking to whatever thoughts were bothering him.

“Keija?” the low rumble of her husband called to her from the entrance of the bedroom, who she merely waved away as she tried to understand what Mercer was saying. Why would he be saying that? To her of all people?

“Mercer,” she called his name, trying to shake him out of whatever thoughts had clouded him, making him straighten up as he pulled away from her, head still shaking side to side as his shoulders shook in whatever misery he let fall onto himself. “Hey Pa come on.”

The ashy haired Imperial realized her slip and it was only the way her mouth pulled into a thin line that Mercer realized she had said something she hadn’t meant too.

“Wouldn’t think of me like that if you knew what I’d done,” he said, running a hand through his brown hair, making the already messy hair messier. “Bryn hasn’t come to see you has he?”

It was in the way she shook her head, a sad smile pulling at her mouth that he had only seen when she grieved for her real father.

“You taught me too well, they won’t find me unless I want them too.”

That startled a laugh out of him, one that started off hysterical before calming down into rambunctious chuckles. The smirk he gave her, the way his eyes brightened as he looked at her and nodded.

“Suppose we did, so tell me what have you done these last two years?”

The mischievous smile he got was one he hadn’t realized he missed and Mercer was damned if he would ever admit to Keija. Judging by the knowing glint in her eye, it seemed he wasn’t as good as hiding as he once was.

 

+++


	2. Home

****

**.Home.  
4E 200 Evening Star**

Mercer had stayed long enough to return to good health and a little bit longer to both spoil Keija’s child and to judge the man she had chosen as her husband. Vilkas seemed a good man – he was quiet, dark, and almost broody, countered with the light, brilliant personality of Keija.

The man kept up with Keija’s wit (and ridiculously smart mouth, Vex had not been a good example to the girl) and had little to no issues with accepting his wife’s past. He only had trouble accepting the man that brought her into that life, though Mercer thought that was unnecessary seeing as he was leaving Skyrim for Cyrodiil the moment he had a chance. Still he acknowledged the man and at times enjoyed sneaking up on him – though he ceased doing that the one time the man nearly took off his head.

Keija was between being unimpressed and wanting to laugh away at the predicament, she settled for a rather stony countenance, one that the scars over her mouth and cheek _and_ the one over her left eye did not help with. 

She was rather frightening when she wanted to be, but it was in the way her eyes seemed to dance with glee that they were able to avoid getting on the woman’s bad side, though Mercer could tell he was a couple gold coins lighter.

+++

**4E 201 Sun’s Dawn**  


Mercer settled for letting himself be saddled with a young Valerya, who was soon turning one and was in the cusp of having experienced her first winter. The child was surly, not liking being handed off to him when either parent was too busy to give her attention, but Mercer understood children (to the point he was lucky he hadn’t drawn in more street urchins) and their finicky needs.

The gray-blue eyes of the child were as vibrant as Keija’s but in Vilkas’ color. It was odd to see what would become of the young babe, which parent she would take more after in looks and which one personality wise. By her nature and the offhanded comments from Vilkas, Valerya tended to be rather fussy, more so than most children. 

Said child was captivated by the shadow puppets he had managed against the candle light, hands reaching out towards them and squeezing in a _‘give me, I want’_ gesture. Sometimes he would manage to put the child to sleep and Mercer would stare, never having been trusted with something – someone – so small, so dependent. Keija had been twelve and could mostly handle herself, her true father having taught her how to hunt and such things that most city children rarely learned. 

A child willing to smile and happily gift a stranger had grown into a mischievous, rather dangerous woman. Rare were the times he had ever seen the ashy haired Imperial angry and if the times Vilkas had seen her in such a mood, it was usually towards the brigands that had happened on them on the road.

For Vilkas to tell it, Keija was a vicious woman to fight. Tall she may be, but she had the softness to her that none would ever expect the fight that would come the moment it was given the chance. She was a whirlwind of poison coated blades, feigning blows that ended with a lightning spell cast, or having the knack to slip through most disadvantageous positions.

The thieves had taught her to fight amongst the shadows, never to aim for a fatal blow unless absolutely necessary – it was in the last two years she had picked up these tactics, having been a girl but of seventeen travelling on her own and fending for herself. 

Looking upon her now, at the age of nineteen, she was a mother and a loving wife. Her husband was perhaps what any father would want their daughters in the care of. And sweet Valerya would have been loved by Keija’s true father, seeing as the child had a certain sway over the former Thieves Guild master. 

For having been given her lot in life, Keija truly came out above and it reminded him of something Ol Devin once mentioned to him,  
_‘The girls been touched, Mercer. Don’ think me for a believer, but I can sense it, just like I can feel the Dark Lady pulling away from us. That girl is blessed.’_

And maybe he should have counted his lucky stars then and there, instead of asking the girl for one more heist.

Truly his _daughter_ (cause he had a hand in raising her, he had seen her grow, he had made sure she would live no matter what, even if all he did was complain about her, she always seemed to have understood what he truly meant) was blessed and loved by the Gods for them to have given her a happy home at last.

But he was selfish, he had given her a home with his guild just as much as Vilkas had offered his with the Companions.

How cruel was he to try take her from her home as he had?

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another part up.  
> I lost the notecard in which I had chosen a bunch of prompts to focus around, so I'm remaking it again. Sooner or later the explanation for Mercer living and kicking will be explained. :p  
> Thank you for the Kudos :)


	3. Loss

**.Loss.  
4E 201 Sun’s Dawn**

It had been a couple days past Valerya’s first birthday, First Seed was upon on them and Mercer only asked, _truly_ asked her to accompany him towards the border. To pull off a heist like the man had in mind, it would have to be done in Cyrodiil, where their endeavors wouldn’t be traced back to them.

Seeing as it was only a couple months since his supposed ‘death’, something that he knew should have been unavoidable, he _still_ didn’t understand how he lived through. The Thieves Guild wasn’t back on its feet, but it was slowly rising. To know that there was a successful heist as the one he had in mind would draw their attention.

From the outskirts of Whiterun the two would ride towards Helgen, from there the two would stock up, and continue on towards Pale Pass where Mercer would continue his journey through the Jerall Mountains. By the time the Breton would reach Bruma, he would send a letter and would continue to do such a thing at random until he found an area where he could work out of. 

The plan had gone smoothly at first, it was on the departure were it got rough. The sounds of fighting came from behind them and the only way to escape it was to go forward into Cyrodiil. Mercer felt it in the deepest hollows of his bones, a chill when he heard the cry from behind, he tried to pull back on his mount and the stubborn horse refused to obey, not until he dug his heels harshly into its side did it rear back on its hind legs before it listened to him. 

The sound of fighting reached his ears and there he saw Keija holding down her own against those who attacked her. The woman’s fury was clear in the way she brought down her dagger against one soldier’s neck, the other dagger she reversed in her grip and brought it across the another’s stomach. 

“We have a runner!” 

_“GO!”_

She saw him riding towards her and her features twisted in anger as she was forced to bend backwards, her hands touching the ground and carrying her weight as she kicked out her legs at the soldier’s that tried to take advantage of her moment of vulnerability. Judging by the glow in her hands, they were in for a rather nasty shock.

_“LEAVE ALREADY!”_

A stray bout of lightning made the horse beneath him titter, a second one enforced the horses need to run, Mercer clinging to the creatures frame as he held on and prayed to whoever was listening that he did not just leave Keija to her death.

_Nocturnal be willing, the girl needs to live._

Not at all for his sake, but for the her family.

+++

**Morndas 17th of 4E 201 First Seed**

It was the rocking of the carriage that woke her and reminded her of the mornings when she was sick with child. The smell of filth and blood did of course make her gag, the stench rather pungent, especially with the way it clung to her.

“Easy there, my lady,” and she would have scoffed at the man, but remembered she was wearing rather fine riding clothes (she always had the coin for it and Vilkas liked gifting her pretty things when he returned from certain jobs). 

She focused on the man before her, eyes blearily taking in the sun that shown too bright. She listened more than she talked, a sinking filling in her chest as the man named Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm, _and the man who was said to have slain High King Torygg_. It was the horse thief who finished her train of thought aloud and the pit in her stomach grew.

This was the end.

Her life would end here at the age of nineteen and it wasn’t for having been a part of anything, it was just honestly being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

_Kyne, Mara, Akatosh, even you Talos, I call to you to judge me truly and fairly. I have lived my life at peace, I wish for you to not take it in the same way. I will fight to the death rather than bare my neck to those who think it right to judge me._

+++  
**Middas 9th of 4E 201 Rain’s Hand**  


It was nearing the end of the second month; Vilkas had kept count of how long his beloved had been gone. The quiet of her absence was something he had come to hate, it wasn’t the first time she had been gone this long, but it was the first time he and Valerya were left alone.

The last time he recalled her being gone this long was when Kodlak had sent her out on a mission and had returned in just the nick of time to help stave off the Silver Hand from Jorrvaskr. Luck had been with them on that day and the following skirmishes; it was there he had learned that the weak, little thief that his brother had grown fond of was anything but that.

She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, having taken them on as part of her own people and thus defended them in such a matter. It was a principal that had been drilled into her by her father, then by Brynjolf (even if the idea of a thief with honor was odd) to watch out for those who she could trust and to keep them close. 

Was it ever a wonder that the next time they sparred (for ‘training’ purposes) she had him on his back before he could realize what she was doing? Though she didn’t understand the research (and the witches heads) she brought back for Kodlak, she knew well enough not to push it and only strived to help them as best as she could. 

The girl had barely turned seventeen and here she was schooling those who had grown up with the Companions a lesson on humility that they should have known. 

_From a thief no less._

“Vilkas?” 

The door to their small home opened up, the smell of freshly baked pie perhaps reaching her (he baked pie when he was worried, Farkas and the others laughed at him, but they were the ones reaping the benefits of his worries) as she walked through the small entrance and into the kitchen. 

He stood from his seat, wrapping her up in his arms. He nuzzled his nose against her neck, taking in her scent – how it mixed with the smells of dry pine and ash? Pulling away from her he gave her a questioning look, seeing the suffering look on her face – her eyes crinkled at the corners, her mouth pursed, looking as if she had a great weight placed on her. 

He led her to chair, scooting the one on the other side right next to hers and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

“I have to leave soon,” she finally said after a while, having leaned in completely against him, taking away as much of his warmth as she could. 

“Did you two plan already?” it was obvious his dislike of what had once been her job and she didn’t even rebuke him as she was wont to do. That already let him know something was wrong.

“You heard the Greybeards call, did you not?”

A thick brow was raised as he noticed the way she began to fidget with her hands. He cupped her face with one hand and made her look at him,

“Keija?”

Because the question was who hadn’t heard the Greybeards call? Surely – no –

“Don’t tell me….”

 _“Dovahkiin,”_ she murmured, closing her eyes as she spoke the draconic word. “I took a dragon’s soul Vilkas, there is no one else.”

He just had her, he hadn’t had her in his arms for no more than fifteen minutes, and to find out that his woman, his wife, _Keija_ was the Nordic hero of legend?

Vilkas stood up, chair scraping against the cobbled ground and his wife about to protest (or burst into tears) only for a rather peculiar sound to escape her as he all but hefted her over his shoulder. His wife could be the Hero of Legend in a weeks’ time, right now he just needed _her_

+++


	4. Travel

**.Travel I.  
Fredas 25th of 4E 201 Rains Hand**

It had taken Thane Keija a while to get herself together to begin the journey towards High Hrothgar, but Lydia was patient. Her Thane was young, barely turning 19 and she needed time to come to terms with what had happened.

Of course that is if they had time. 

Jarl Balgruff urged the young woman to go, to not make the Greybeards wait longer than they should. Lydia had noticed the look in her Thane’s eye, a frown marring her scarred mouth at being told what to do and how quickly to do it. The Nord woman had spoken with the Imperial, calming her from whatever rage was threatening to peak through.

“ _It will not be wise, my Thane_ ,” she had advised, having gone through many moments such as these with many a guardsman. 

Her Thane had huffed, had turned on her heel and made herself comfortable in Jorrvaskr, leaving Lydia to wait on her call in Dragonsreach. She was a patient woman, at twenty nine Lydia knew what it was like to be brash and upset at being set aside so easily, but she had reined that in and made it work to her advantage when it came to sparring. 

The poor guards that thought they could take her.

But she did not hold it against the young woman; her Thane was coming into her own. 

So when her Thane had called upon her, to meet her at the stables, Lydia went prepared with her sword at her hip and her shield at her back. Her pack hung at her hip, the runes spelled into it making it hold more than it appeared too. 

“My Thane, you have called upon me?”

The young woman was not used to be called as such, had told her numerous times to call her Keija, but Lydia could not do that. The woman before her was worthy of her respect and had earned her title rightfully – if the rumors and the words of the guards that had witnessed her slay a dragon was anything to go by. 

Keija offered the Nordswoman in front of her the reigns to the black and white horse, “We leave for Ivarstead, let us see what the Greybeard’s have to say.” The Imperial did not know what to think of the woman before her, but already she was seeing someone she could trust at her back, if by the way the woman constantly held herself up. 

Following in Lydia’s steps, Keija pulled herself up over her own black steed – Marienette, a name Vilkas had scoffed at when he had gifted the mare to her. 

“I wish to make it to Riverwood by late afternoon, I have quick business to attend to their and we’ll be on our way to Ivarstead tomorrow morning.”

Keija received a nod from Lydia and the two trotted off on their mounts, taking a left at the cobblestoned road ahead. It was late morning; if they kept the pace they would reach Riverwood earlier than she had planned. With that thought, Keija cleared her mind of thoughts and focused on the road before her, keeping herself aware of everything going on around her.

She would not be caught unsurprised again.

+++  
**Morndas 28th of 4E 201, Rains Hand**  


Ivarstead looked quaint, as if something out of a painting from her view. The two women were sure they were almost halfway up the 7,000 steps and had opted to take a break near one of the wayshrines. A huntress passed by them looking as if she had suffered a beating and she had warned them that there was a troll further ahead.

They thanked the woman for her warning, offered some of their cheese and bread to her before she was back on her way down. 

“A frost troll,” Keija spoke, her voice low and soft, barely heard over the wind that was beginning to pick up. The steps instead of being covered in dirt were beginning to become icy and slippery and the Imperial was happy she had was smart enough to leave their horses in the care of one of them men in Ivarstead. “I know some fire magic, instead of fighting it we could scare it away.”

As a thief (not that her companion knew that) she preferred slipping past any obstacle in her way, judging by the look in Lydia’s eye the woman had another idea.

“Wouldn’t it be better to slay the beast now so we do not have to deal with it later?”

A good point, but trolls were tough. Their thick skin made it hard for most swords to pierce through; the better option was always to distract the thing before it set its sights on them. Keija shrugged, the weight of the bow on her back bothering her, before an idea hit her.

“Lydia, how good are you with a bow?”

From there Lydia had used herself as a distraction, keeping her distance and hiding from the troll as her Thane slipped past the stupid creature, equipped with only a dagger. Lydia knotched back another arrow, one of the ones her Thane had inscribed with a fire rune and released it. The arrow sailed and struck the snow covered floor before the creature, the troll lumbered over it screeching at the Nord only for it to squeal in pain when the arrow exploded. 

With that distraction, Lydia saw Keija moving to high ground before jumping down and digging her dagger into the creature’s weight. Fire magic flared from the Imperial’s hands, down the dagger and seared the creature’s neck making the sharp blade slip in easily.

A gurgle escaped the frost troll, its limbs flailing before it fell backwards. 

When Lydia approached, her Thane had already cleaned and sheathed her weapon and the Nord wordlessly handed over the woman’s bow and arrows. 

“That is fine craftsmanship,” Lydia commented, noting the wry smile that curled the Imperial’s lips. 

“Aye, I’ve had it since I was young and it has served me well,” The ashy haired woman gestured in front of them, “Shall we continue on?”

+++


	5. Unfriendly

**.Unfriendly.  
Middas 7th of 4E 201, Second Seed**

The Greybeards had been helpful.

By that Keija meant they had given her _work_ to _prove_ that she was the _Dragonborn_. They had already explained what she had to do, they had taught her a second word of power and now she had an idea on how to properly use it. 

At the current moment she was trudging out of Ustengrav, empty handed minus the crumpled paper that was in her fist. Lydia wisely stayed a few paces back, leaving her Thane to work through the rage she felt. She too was peeved, they had risked their lives going through the crypt and as fascinating as it had been to experience this with her Thane, to find out their goal had been taken from them.

Well, if she could shout like her Thane she would be screaming to the skies. 

They made their way quickly to Morthal, specifically the inn, and had requested baths to be drawn up and a hot meal. Keija had tossed a small bag of coin to the one running the inn, said owner was surprised at the weight of the pouch, but was quick to do as the Imperial had asked. 

The last time she had been led through the nose like this was when she was being hazed in the Thieves Guild. The others had quickly found out that while funny, it was a terrible idea. Who knew the twelve year old brat could set rune traps to activate and give them more than a mild shock? Or set up a trap that would trigger at a moment’s whim and have whatever poor sod was nearby dragged into the murky Cistern waters?

Thrynn had been on the receiving end of that one and had sputtered and argued with Mercer, only to back down when the Guild Master called his skills into question.

“We’ll stock up tomorrow morning before we head back to Riverwood.”

+++

It was about four days later – Keija had lost track, but Lydia assured it had been four days – they were back in Riverwood. Keija had sent Lydia off to wonder, which the woman did, heading towards the smithy where she gave the blacksmith her shield and blade to work on.

Knowing the Nord was now busy; Keija headed into the Sleeping Giant Inn and had promptly asked for the attic room. To which the woman – Delphine was it? – gave her a crooked smile and told her there was no attic room. Unamused, Keija was about to protest but was quickly led into a regular room, where the Innkeeper promised to return. 

She sat in the only chair in the room, one leg crossing over the other and her arms crossing against her chest as she glowered at the wall. It was a few moments later that the other woman returned and beckoned her out.

When Delphine took her down to a secret room, Keija knew that she was about to be as pissed off as Mercer was when Brynyolf had brought in that rather unassuming thief (who ended up being a bad bet and made the Guild look worse). 

The other woman had turned for a second and by the time she turned around, she realized that her prize was no longer in her own hand. Instead it was in Keija’s, being turned this way and that as the red eyes of the woman looked at it keenly.

“This is what they wanted me to get?”

“Thief!” cried Delphine, reaching out for the horn, only for it to be pocketed by Keija. The Dragonborn raised a brow at that and the blond woman almost felt ashamed, only for that feeling to fade and a glare to mar her face. “I was going to give it to you! I have no use for it anyways!”

“You know my Master had a saying,” Keija drawled, her voice low making the Breton lean forward just a bit to hear her better, “That whoever steals what they don’t have a claim on, should have their fingers removed.” A smile that made Delphine shiver appeared on Keija’s face, the scars enunciating and twisting the younger woman’s features. The sound of a blade being drawn was heard and Keija was right beside her, tip of the dagger trailing down Delphine’s arm.

“Explain and you may _just_ keep your hand.”

+++


	6. Travel

**.Travel II.  
4E of 201, Sun's Height**

Delvin had been absolutely ecstatic to see her, had greeted her with a hug that took her off her feet and a drunken kiss against her forehead. Before the pleasantries could be spread around, of course she noted the man that seemed to be appearing everywhere she happened to be.

Lately there was a temper to her that she couldn’t quite control, so instead of waiting and seeing what else the man did, she sat herself before him and gave him a toothy smile and all but demanded the man to explain himself. The dark skinned man’s pallor changed to a shade of grey before he tried to scramble away from her. 

Keija sniffed, flicking a braid over her shoulder as she shocked the man with a spell and watched him spasm on the floor. 

“She’s gotten more wicked, hasn’t she?” she heard Tonilia’s voice, but pushed it aside as Lydia answered in turn. “Thane Keija has always had a streak to deal with stalkers and thieves in certain ways.”

Said Thane cast an unamused look to her housecarl, who completely ignored it as Vex and Brynjolf sighed in unison.

“First lesson she ever learned from Mercer,” Brynjolf groaned, sitting himself at one of the tables, “Take the hands that steal from you-“

“And lose who ever tails you permanently,” Vex finished, taking a swig of her drink.

The lesson was a bit hypocritical, seeing as Mercer had had young Keija following him. Of course killing a child wasn’t a thing amongst the Guild members, no one was that bloodthirsty or that desperate.

Keija scoffed as she stood back up, having been checking the pockets of the now unconscious man. She unfurled a note that he had been carrying, breathed in deeply and out before she held the note out to Lydia who took it, skimmed it and promptly inhaled sharply.

“Enough chatter,” Keija growled, her fingers aching to end the man’s life before her instantly. She stayed her hand, knowing he was desperate, but to the point that he was willingly working with the Thalmor? 

Knowing those elves, they would dispose of him as soon as his use was over. 

“Bryn, I need to know if there’s a man down in the Ratway, by the name of Esbern.”

The Nordsman took in her tense posture, the way her scarlet eyes were narrowed into mere splits – by Shor the young lass looked like she was about to breath fire on all of them. There was a man by that name, one that had paid good coin to remain hidden and though he knew Keija, had worked with her a couple of times; he couldn’t just give out information like that.

“How much is it worth –“

A ebony dagger embedded itself into the wooden table, Keija leaned down, gripping the handle of her dagger so tight that the enchanted weapon sparked.

“I am in no mood Brynjolf,” she spoke lowly, her voice echoing in the now silent cistern, “There are Thalmor agents on their way for this very man. _Tell me what you know_.” 

Keija in a bloody rage was one thing; Keija in a rage that was as cold as Skyrim’s winters was one you didn’t want. After telling her what she wanted, the Cistern stayed silent once she left down to the ratway. 

They heard her voice through the thick stone walls, how it made the world quake and shook loose the rubble from the ceiling. They heard the yelling and screaming of men fighting and dying, but her voice was a constant. 

Only Delvin was at ease with the madness going around, sipping at his drink with ease. There was an odd smile on the old man’s face, one that even the new Guild Master couldn’t quite place after they had returned from above when they felt the odd tremor coming from below. 

There was an echo of the last words Keija had shouted and no one said anything as the girl most of them had watched grow came out covered in blood, her features smoothed out so no one could read her feelings. She nodded at them, a quiet pardon falling from her lips as she and her two followers all but booked it out of the cistern. 

“Blessed not by the Dark Lady, but by the Gods themselves,” Delvin murmured, shaking his head side to side. “Poor girl,” he paused to take a drink, swirling the remaining liquid as he thought over what that meant for Keija, “has a long road in front of her.”

+++

**4E of 201, Sun's Dusk**  


Keija had found her travels enjoyable, even the ones that had been rather heart breaking – coming across the young lad in Windhelm begging for a woman’s death was one of them. Another was watching the young orphans who couldn’t make it to the Riften orphanage try their best to make it through.

It was perhaps her last and final trip to Riften that had broken her completely – or perhaps not, but she had a different view and understanding of _why_ Mercer had been adamant in being a ghostly figure. She also couldn’t fault him when he was tempted by a Daedric Prince’s artifact. 

Not that she was going to let him get away with not telling her the whole truth (though that would have to wait until she had free time and this dragon business was over with). But they were thieves and sometimes they did dirty work, their world was nothing but half-truths and how much coin it was worth.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there was an update with another chapter that you all saw for a split second, I uploaded the wrong chapter.  
> So here's the one I wanted  
> and I'll upload the next one soon.  
> Thanks to all of you who have left kudo's it gives me a warm feeling.  
> We will be reaching the end of Keija's time in Tamriel in a couple chapters (unless I decide to be disgustingly sweet and give Vilkas/Keija/Valerya along with Lydia and Farkas some family bonding time). 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed~


	7. Friend

****

.Friend.  
4E of 202, Hearthfire

Dispatching the group of Thalmor that had attacked shouldn’t have been as easy and yet it was.

It had been well over a year since she had been named Dragonborn and though the Thalmor were loathed to believe it, they didn’t have a _choice_ but to. Then again ever since she had broken in and stolen information ( _and_ set free one of her fellow thieves), they hadn’t been too happy with her. 

There had been rumors that the Thalmor would pay handsomely for whoever brought in the dirty rogue who took the name of Dragonborn. Few had dared and had been left to rot where they had been killed. The ones most persistent enough were the Thalmor’s own and even that was becoming rather tiresome. 

Sighing Keija wiped her blade on the dead elves robes, making sure that the ebony dagger hadn’t chipped or dulled in any way that they may prove useless in the next bout. With that done, she moved on, picking through the dead’s belongings and taking any coin and pretty gem that would fetch a decent price. 

Lydia stood back, having grown used to the younger woman’s habits. Finding out that Keija had been a thief was hard to take – how could such a great woman that had impressed Jarl Balgruff and had been named by the Gods be such a petty criminal? To know that the woman had left that life behind to continue onto greater things – even if she had disappeared for several weeks to Cyrodiil (Lydia _still_ didn’t know what her Thane had gotten up to and by the haughty smirk the woman had for weeks, the housecarl _didn’t want to know_ ) – made Lydia admire the woman even more.

“When we return to Whiterun, remind me to speak with Farengar.”

They were a few hours away from the city and Lydia could not help but wish for her bed back in Breezehome.

+++

“My Thane, I do not know what to say,” Lydia barely managed to say as she held the necklace in her hands with great care.

“Keija, Lydia, please,” the Imperial muttered a few choice words under her breath, before resuming their talk. “It’s enchanted to let me know if you are ever in trouble, you are not only my housecarl, but my dear friend and I wish to know that you are always safe.”

Touched, the Nordswoman didn’t know what to say, instead she pulled the shorter woman into an embrace, while uttering the softest of _‘thank you’s_ Keija barely kept from squeaking and only managed to pat Lydia on the back. She could feel her bones creak and then sigh with relief once she was released. 

What was with these Nords in her life? Picking her up and squeezing her like a bag of flour, it was enough that Vilkas and Farkas did it, now Lydia too?

While busy with her inner thoughts, Lydia had slipped the silver chain over her head. The woman felt as if she had been wrapped in a warm blanket, one that offered protection and care. Gazing upon her Thane, who now spoke to the court mage in hushed tones, Lydia couldn’t help but feel as if she had found her way home.

+++


	8. Fighting

**.Fighting.**

**4E of 202 Evening Star**

Sometimes fighting wasn’t physical.

Sometimes fighting meant proving herself to others that she was _meant_ to do this. Other times it meant pushing down her own thoughts and moving forward.

At the current moment, they were fighting with words, the Stormcloaks on one end, the Legion at the other, and the Thalmor just there sticking their noses into a business they had no right too. She sat through this all her face not once betraying any of her inner thoughts so when she stood, hands flat against the top of the stone table, all noise ceased.

She looked at each person there in the eye, knowing that at least her annoyance and anger at the situation shown through her gaze. By the way they straightened up or held their breath, she was assured that her eyes had done the very thing Lydia had told her they did when they faced a dragon.

“I am more inclined to let Alduin run his course,” she began, one hand came up to halt Esbern’s shout of dismay, “Really, a ceasefire for as long as the dragon’s continue to be an issue and then the fighting resumes.” She scoffed, her hands moving and lacing behind her back as she began to walk around the table, intent on making everyone  _feel_ like the prey they were.

“If you are all so willing to kill yourselves, I should let Alduin do his duty,” she reiterated, her footsteps being the only noise in the room as they echoed against the stone. “You are all so ready to squabble and fight like petty children –“

“Dragonborn –“

“My Lady I assure – “

“ _Enough Talk,_ ” the words were not spoken in the common tongue, but in the old draconic language. The intent behind her words had everyone sealing their mouths shut, eyes looking up as the room shook and loose bits of the ceiling came down.

Keija’s walk around the table brought her back to her seat, her mouth was pulled back in a sneer and her glare was one that would have had lesser men soiling their breeches. Eyes that glowed like rubies took in everyone’s face once more and the woman sat herself down as she gave them all one last hard look.

“We will discuss an end to this fighting, or so be it _I_  will make it so that this petty war comes to an end.”

“Listen here, woman,” Elenwen had stood up, her face twisted into a frown, not flinching beneath the Dragonborn’s gaze, “A threat such as that coming from the one who called this peace conference, I’m finding it easier to believe that this is a way to be rid of all of us for you to take control!”

There was a stir in the room as that was said, a quiet murmur coming from Jarl Elisif as she turned to General Tulius. Keija smirked, a low chuckle escaping her as she waved at Delphine and Esbern to distribute the parchment they had on hand.

“As damning as it is, I did find some interesting books at the Thalmor Embassy, Ambassador Elenwen,” her smirk turned predatory at the slight widening of the High Elves eyes, quickly cutting her of as the woman began to protest. “I can assure you more than one person can testify to the truth in these books, if you cannot stand this you may take your leave, Ambassador.”

The High Elf stood rooted to her spot, her pale gold skin darkening as she became flushed with rage.

“We will come for you.”

The threat was very real, but not of importance at the moment. It only showed that the Thalmor had been much more involved than they had made themselves seem to be. As the ambassador was escorted out, Keija turned her attention back to the two men who had stood at odds, a horrifying look coming over General Tulius’ face as Ulfric hid his face in his hands in shame.

“The time will come to deal with the issues thoroughly,” Keija spoke, much more softly, her tone that of a mother trying to soothe her child. “Right now we must deal with this crisis. Whether you believe in Alduin’s return or not, your help is needed to quell both the dragon’s that are raiding the lands and this civil war.”

“ _Will you help me or will I stand alone?”_

+++

 


	9. Warmth

**.Warmth.**

**4E of 203, Sun’s Dawn**

Valerya was two, nearing her third year of living and Keija couldn’t help but still be mesmerized over her little dragonling. It hurt to know that every time she left, the memories and recognition that would light up her daughter’s grey eyes would fade and by the time she came around she was nothing more than a stranger.

Valerya hid herself behind Vilkas’ legs, peeking curiously from behind at Keija who had crouched down and stared at her. The Imperial woman smiled as tenderly as she could, knowing that the scars that marred her face often made her appear intimidating.

“Valerya,” she spoke the name softly, which made the young toddler fist the linen pants her father wore. It was the pat on the head and a gentle push forward that had the curly haired child going towards the woman. With her head tilted down and her hands fidgeting about, Valerya stopped before the woman and looked up, her eyes wide and unsure. “’Ello love.”

Keija didn’t reach for her, instead letting the child become comfortable with her presence before she reached to grasp the girl’s small hands.

“Have an idea of who I may be?”

The toddler shook her head, her small hands tightening around one of Keija’s fingers. She didn’t notice the brief flicker of emotion in Keija’s scarlet eyes, but the smile wasn’t as pretty as it had been before.

“Who you?”

Keija swallowed, the sting of tears wanting to fall, though she didn’t allow it, “I am your mother, love.”

Valerya looked over her shoulder towards Vilkas, who nodded, before looking back upon Keija’s teary face, “You sing? Papa bad.”

Keija threw her head back with genuine laughter, which was filled with hiccups as she openly cried. The child was calm now and let herself be picked up and settled against Keija’s hip. “Aye I know a song or two, let us go inside, yes? Your papa made his pie?” The child in her arms brightened and nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Unco Farkas helped too!”

“Really now?” Keija asked, a wide smile on her lips as she approached her husband who leaned down and captured her lips in a tender kiss. Valerya squealed, her hands reaching for Vilkas as he pulled away.

“Me too! Me too!”

A chuckle bubbled up Vilkas’ chest as he obliged and kissed his daughter’s forehead. Keija looked, happy to have her daughter in her arms and to be around her husband and for the moment, even though chaos reigned high, she had her peace.

+++

_Oh my sweet love, she waits for me_

_Through storm and shine, cross land and sea_

_I run to her and together we_

_Sway as we kiss_

Keija sang as she spun her daughter, Valerya giggling as she was twirled about.

Her mother’s voice was prettier than her fathers, though a little bit raspy, which she didn’t mind. The ashy haired woman’s voice soothed her, even though she didn’t really know her. Stranger she was, not even Aunt Aela could comfort her like this woman did and that was just after being around her for a couple of hours.

When that night turned to days, Valerya was around Keija following her around and even asking inane questions that would have drove Farkas up the wall if he had been watching the child.

All Mama did was laugh, her eyes half lidded as she looked at her like Papa would and answered her questions. It was when another woman appeared, decked in armor and weapons strapped to her hip did her mama lose her smile.

A weight seemed to have settled on the woman and as the two spoke, Valerya only understood one thing – Keija was leaving.

“Mama no,” the child cried, wrapping herself around the woman’s leg as she tried to ready her pack.

“Valerya, I must –“

“No!”

Keija dropped down, sitting herself on the floor as Valerya threw her arms around her neck, burying her face into the crook of her neck. Keija’s heart ached as she wound her arms around her daughter, one hand rubbing at her back, the other curling itself into the girl’s hair.

“To keep you safe, my love, I must.”

Valerya only cried louder and Keija kept talking, “You will not understand now, but later on you will know the burden I carry, sweetling. I fight now for you and your father and for the people I care most about.”

“If you can ever forgive me for what’s to come, I hope you can.”

_“Don’t forget me.”_

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet intermission before Keija goes to the beyond.  
> Thank you to those who have kudo'd and Catann, I am glad you all are enjoying this.  
> Also the song is from the TES: Online, I think it takes places before skyrim and oblivion? not too sure.


	10. Ending

**.Ending.**

**4E of 203, First Seed**

“ _We drink to our youth, for the days come and gone.”_

Keija did not fear her walk through Skuldafn.

Keija did not hesitate to raise her blade once more, did not hesitate to speak against the draugr that dared go against her, nor the dragon’s that tried to best her.

She may not have their age nor their experience, but she had the Gods on her side.

And whether it is luck or their will, she will meet Alduin.

+++

Sovngarde was a place of beauty.

A gentle murmur of song that guided the lost souls of warriors could be heard about, the ancient language it was spoken in soothing her fears and her trembling hands.

Through the thick mist she went, meeting High King Torygg who spoke to her and wished the best for her battle to come. She met the many men and women who had fallen during the civil war and were ensnared in Alduin’s mist.

No matter how many times she cleared it, Alduin would call it again taking more than his fair share of souls as he did so.

She hurried onward, accepting the guidance of the souls as a few brave ones led her towards the edge of the mist. They could not leave having been caught in it for so long, but she could. Keija pushed onward before she lost her nerve about leaving them behind, she knew if she truly wanted to save them Alduin had to be fought.

She approached the bridge.

Fought Tsun – the man who was the Shield-Thane of Shor (as Vilkas would often tell it) – and impressed the Nordic God.

She was allowed to cross the Whalebone Bridge to Shor’s Hall of Valor, where no mortal had ever set foot.

It was here where everything would be decided, she could feel it and so she pushed on as stubborn and hard headed as ever. She would not fail now, not after coming so far.

“Vilkas, Valerya, Mercer, Lydia,” she began to list the names of those close to her heart.

This battle was not meant for someone like her, this battle was meant for a true warrior. Those had been her thoughts in the beginning – she was a measly thief, a poor wife and a terrible mother. She had had her doubts, but now after nearly three years of fighting she could dare call herself a warrior.

And though she could fight with the best of them, she was first and foremost a thief.

A wicked grin curled her lips as she pushed the doors open to the Hall of Valor as her thoughts curled down into one sentence, one simple thought.

She was going to do what thieves do best, she was going to steal Alduin back to the Gods.

A difficult task, but she was more than ready for it.

_“And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies.”_

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other chapters may take longer to upload since I am adding more detail to them than they had before.  
> I really want to capture how different Thedas feels to Keija and I am having a bit of trouble fleshing it out.  
> Once again thank you all for the Kudos :)


	11. Love

**.Love.**

**4E of 203, First Seed**

The Dragonborn had touched many lives in both her quest to find an answer to Alduin’s end and in her free spirited youth. The woman could smile – a twisted one at that – and ensure everyone’s safety and happiness at the cost of her own.

Once Keija would have only bothered for those who mattered, but in the last year she had extended a kindness to every one she had met. It was in the last week that those Keija considered her family that they saw the kind woman for what she was before she changed.

Vilkas could say it was like when he had first met her, she would watch and keep to herself, as if ingraining everything in her mind for later use.

Lydia remembered at first what Keija was like – constantly exasperated with all the titles that were being thrown her way, yet always finding a way to smile even in the hardest moments.

Valerya wanted her mother, simple as that.

Mercer had received a letter, kept close to his window in the two story home he _legally_ owned in Anvil and watched the skies for any sign of his pseudo-daughter.

In Riften, beneath the city, the murky cistern which was usually chaotic and noisy was quiet. Gentle murmurs came up here and there, but they all sat with bated breath, enduring the constant shaking of the ground and the deep rumble of the skies.

Ulfric and his men stood at the ready beneath the snowfall that had begun only moments ago, in Windhelm.

Similarly, Tulius and his own waited in the courtyard, ignoring the cries that echoed in the skies and the harsh rain that fell.

Even Cicero, a man Keija had helped along the road, stilled in his insanity. He lit a candle for the woman and though she was a target of the Dark Brotherhood, she was still one of the few who had extended a helping hand when others would have turned away.

The bandits cowered in their watering holes, the Thalmor stilled in their flurry of activity, chills evident on their skin as they listened. The Jarl’s sat with their heads bowed, the nobles merely continued on in their escape to be safe, and the peasants prayed to every last one of their Gods.

It felt like hours when it all finally ceased.

An odd quiet fell upon them and every last person in the land seemed to hold their breath as they waited to hear the call.

The call to see if they were all doomed or if they all survived.

An ancient chant seemed to have filled the skies reverberating in the people’s bones, seeping into them and one by one they all sang. It was followed by the cries of numerous dragon’s, soaring above the land and heading towards Skyrim’s tallest peak.

For those who saw the horde of dragon’s circling the skies it was a once in a life time chance.

_“Alduin mahlaan!”_

_“Dovahkiin los ok dovahkriid!”_

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alduin Mahlaan - Alduin has fallen  
> Dovahkiin los ok dovahkriid - (the) Dragonborn is his dragonslayer
> 
> Slowly reaching, every so slowly.  
> I'm taking longer to upload cause I like keeping at least a couple chapters ahead since I have other stuff going on. The recent chapters have been _long_ as I'm trying to add more to the world and to what Keija sees and what the people of Thedas see.  
>  She's not really happy guys.
> 
> Well, until next time~


	12. Free

**.Free**

**4E of 203, First Seed.**

She felt empty.

She had bested a dragon god, had proved to the other _dov_ who had followed him that _she_ was worthy and not the weak bag of flesh they believed her to be. She had saved Nirn, protected the lives of both living and dead, had ensured that it would continue on.

She felt empty.

She was so exhausted. She had collapsed soon after she made her way down to High Hrothgar, the Greybeards said nothing only guiding her and letting her rest.

Three years.

_Three years._

Her head rested against one of the stuffed pillows she had brought many months ago, to make sure that the old men who stayed here were comfortable and that she would be too whenever she stayed.

She felt empty, yet so light.

There was no more to worry about, the threat that had hung over the world was gone and she could finally have her peace.

She could be with her family, watch her daughter toddle about, share kisses at the fireside with her husband, spar with his twin, and make sporadic visits to Cyrodiil as she pleased.

A soft sigh escaped her, followed by laughter that was more of an exhale of breath. No longer chained by duty, she was able to spread her wings and fly as she pleased.

She was free.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more thank you for the kudos.  
> Its always nice to see ya'll liked this :3


	13. Chapter 13

**.Home Again**

**4E of 203, First Seed.**

It was nearing the end of First Seed when she returned to Whiterun.

The air about the city was still, waiting with bated breath for something – or someone. When she made her way up to the gates the guards that were about the walls cheered, a loud cacophony of voices, followed by the pounding of metal clad fists against armored chests.

_Our Hero, Our hero_

_The Dragonborn Comes_

The stilted city breathed, messenger birds flying as soon as the ink on letters finished drying sent out to the other cities and smaller villages.

Whiterun was bright and full of life, there was laughter and a sense of freedom roaming the streets as children ran amok squealing in joy. The beggars rejoiced, for once in their lives looking as if there was a reason to continue on. The workers and nobles joined in, saluting and cheering at her as she passed, some bowed, others knelt as she went by prayers and blessings falling from their lips.

She continued on head bowed as she graciously took and listened to what the people said. She too prayed along with them, murmurs of thanks falling once more from her lips as she prayed to the Old Gods and the New.

Her feet led her to Jorrvaskr and the people around her grew silent. At the very steps stood the very people she had longed to be with for so long. Kodlak stood in the middle a proud smile on his weathered face beside him stood Vilkas clad in his wolf armor, holding Valerya in his arm’s as the toddler all but tried to get out of his grip.

Aela held her head high as Keija looked to her, Farkas nodded in greeting; the others thrust their fists up and cheered.

“Momma!”

Vilkas let his daughter loose, who toddled with all her might towards her. Keija crouched down, arms wrapping around the small child as she crashed into her, picking her up and holding her tight against her.

“I am home my love.”

The people that had gathered were silent; there was the feeling of being watched. The wind blew, picking stray leaves, weaving them through the air. They danced around the Dragonborn fluttering about before moving on and curling around the image of Talos and continuing on.

Keija smiled, understanding what was happening.

Truly Delvin had said it right all those years ago.

Blessed was she who had had everything taken from her, blessed were they who had helped her along her life, and blessed were the people who had stood beside and offered her encouragement. She had fought and struggled, lost just as much as she had won and now, now she was home.

“ _Blessed are the Gods, who help their people and guide them home_ ,” her true father had once said after coming home battered yet in one piece and at the moment Keija could not help but whole heartedly agree.

+++


	14. Peace

**.Peace**

**4E of 203, Midyear.**

Keija laid with her husband, her head resting against his chest, listening to the soft beating of his heart. With her eyes closed, she lost herself in his warmth, enjoyed the way his fingers stroked her skin, stroking the scars she had gained before moving on.

She sighed, for once happy that there was no constant stress looming over her that she didn’t have a time limit with her family.

It was odd, finally being home.

In the three years since the calling from the Greybeards, Keija had rarely had the time to truly just sit back and relax. Now she could do that, but doing so was difficult and often required a helping hand from Vilkas, who was often more than a little _too_ happy to help.

Of course sometimes they could only have a moment to themselves.

The doors to their room burst open, a squealing child barreling through and throwing herself atop her parents as she tried to hide from whoever was chasing her.

Valerya settled herself behind her mother, head peeking out over the woman’s hip to see if Uncle Farkas followed through. The doors had barely closed on themselves when Farkas burst through, the sound he was about to make cutting off as he caught site of what he came in on.

Keija smothered her laughter into Vilkas’ shoulder, her shoulder’s shaking from her suppressed mirth. Vilkas merely rolled his eyes at his wife, before levelling his brother with a look.

“What is it Farkas?” the eldest of the twins asked, sitting up in bed, furs still covering his lower half.

Keija moved, reaching over behind her and tugging Valerya onto her lap as she mimicked her husband’s moves. She of course ignored Farkas’ sputter as he caught sight of her bare chest and prompted him to leave without answering Vilkas’ question.

“Have you no shame, my dear wife?” Vilkas asked as he stood up and searching for his small clothes. Finding none close by, he merely pulled on a pair of tan pants, tying up the strings and leaving it at that.  The Imperial rolled her eyes, the scarlet hues alight with amusement, her lips pursed in that odd smile of hers.

“We have seen each other in various states of undress, I do not understand why your brother shies away.”

Vilkas shook his head, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Valerya’s head who merely looked between the two. The three year old’s head laid against her mother’s chest, not completely understanding that she had intruded on the two, nor really caring that she did. She was getting to know Keija much better and loving her much more than she did Aunt Aela – who she would never tell that, because the red head could be quite mean.

“Mama, you sing?”

The ashy haired Imperial hummed as she picked the child in her lap and handed her to Vilkas. There was a sound of disapproval, but the Imperial ignored it in favor of getting dressed herself.

“Mayhaps after we have eaten, Valerya.”

The pout the child gave her made Keija chuckle, she ruffled her daughter’s curly hair as she finished lacing the front of her blouse. The small brunette child reached for her mother  who took her and settled her against her hip.

_‘This is nice,’_ Keija couldn’t help but think watching her husband pull a shirt over his head and begin to lead them upstairs to eat. _‘Odd, but nice.’_

Peace was an odd time for her, but she would get used to it.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly forgot I wrote this and I have so much feels.  
> Also if anyone is interested there is a drawing of Keija on my tumblr, which is sorugao-bandgeek.tumblr.com, there's a Skyrim tag and she should pop up :D  
> Sooner or later, I'm going to get a family portrait done, but first i need money.


	15. Running

**.Running**

**4E of 205, Frostfall.**

It was Esbern who had warned her.

Though it was one of Delphine’s contacts that had heard the rumor, they had passed it on to Esbern. While the Breton woman held no love for the Imperial, she also knew that what was coming for the Dragonborn was not going to be easily deflected.

Elenwen’s threat at the meet many years ago had finally come to life, the Thalmor had waited for a lull and were attacking, striving to take back everything that they had worked towards.

They had been so close to getting Skyrim only for it to slip through their fingers. Tulius had turned from them, Ulfric would not hear them, the Jarls of the holds had been informed, and the woman who had made this all possible still lived.

_‘They want your death pinned on someone; they know the people will revolt against whoever to get their revenge for you.  You must run and keep yourself safe, Keija.’_

Esbern’s words echoed in her head, not even the rickety sound of the wagon’s wheels could take away from her constantly going over his words.

_‘I know of a place that will hide you and your family, but you must be willing to trust me.’_

Vilkas sat across from her, the hood of his cloak pulled over to hide his features, Valerya rested against him, snoring softly into his side. Dark gray eyes caught hers and he reached out to clasp her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

_‘You must leave soon or you will lose your chance. You have done enough for the world, do not try to fight anymore, Keija, and let us handle it.’_

Lydia had told her that when she found out the reason her Thane had been incensed– and had taken down a few trees in the forest nearby. Keija’s plans had been left with her good friend, the woman sneaking away to Riften to warn Brynjolf and the others, while Esbern and Delphine had gotten word to Tulius and Ulfric.

It absolutely chafed to know that she could do nothing but run and hide.

Vilkas squeezing her hand brought her out of her thoughts; the woman blinked her husband’s worried face coming into focus.

“Forgive me,” she murmured, voice cracking over the words. It was because of her they were leaving everything behind.

Vilkas shook his head, “We will come back, this is only for the time being.”

It was the smart move.

As much as he disliked actually leaving his home, his family and everything he knew behind, he knew it was to keep them safe.

The Thalmor would be much busier hunting them down when they realized they had left the country and would hopefully stray away from hurting the friends and family they left behind.

 _And if not_ , well Keija had left a dragon or two (there was actually a horde of dragon’s that followed her and  would occasionally bother the Dragonborn for a fight or two and would be more than willing to light fires in the Dragonborn’s name) and they would be watching everything from the skies.

“Everything will be alright.”

+++

They had made it seem like they had been heading towards Cyrodiil, when in actuality they began heading in the direction of Riften towards Morrowind, where they left another trail that continued on but would eventually become a dead end.

Heading north from there, Keija and her family travelled through the Rift’s forests, careful of any of the wild life, traversed Eastmarch’s own terrain bypassing Windhelm, continuing to head towards Solitude.

They walked in the shadow of the Blue Palace, Valerya being the only one truly amazed at the new sights. The ashy haired Imperial followed behind her husband as he picked up their child and led them down the steps towards the docks.

The person who greeted them at the docks was one Keija greeted warmly, Delvin Mallory gave her a two fingered salute in return.

“’’lo there,” greeted the bald man, a cheerful grin on his face as he finally met the woman’s husband. He was much taller than him, but it wasn’t ever the size of the man it was his wit that was important.

The sigh that left Keija as Vilkas and Delvin judged each other was heard, while one looked slightly apologetic, the other merely continued grinning. He took her attitude lightly, knowing her upset was not at him, but at that situation – knowing the girl (he still considered her a child, she was still so young) – it would only take a word for her to snap like she had done to Brynjolf.

He motioned for her and her own to follow him and they did, shortly coming to a stop before a rather extravagant looking ship.

“Tell me my dear Mallory, why do I get a letter from you stating an emergency and a favor that I once owed Mercer, hm?” came the lilting voice of a  woman, who was not too surprised to see the group of people before her. An impish smile appeared on the woman’s features, her eyes brightening as she assessed the situation. “I see, I see.”

“Isabella, always a pleasure to see you,” the Breton male all but purred out, as he greeted the woman, giving the woman an appreciative once over. “You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you.” 

All the woman did was laugh as she beckoned them on the ship.

+++

Isabella was thirty three when she first met Keija.

Her fellow dark skinned woman was a pretty one and at the age of twenty five had managed to live a life as a successful thief, find her way out, and settle down with a family – which wasn’t a _bad_ thing, but Isabella had always wanted to live and strive for more.

While her husband had gone to settle the young one down in the rooms below, Keija had stayed above deck, arms crossed against her chest as she watched her home land become swallowed by the distance.

“First time leaving home?” Isabella asked, a little curious.

There was a twitch at one of the corners of her mouth, and Isabella idly wondered how those scars that covered the right side of the woman’s mouth and cheek had gotten there.

“Aye.”

“The Thieves Guild here is really helping you,” Isabella began, perhaps if she gave a little she could get more out of this one. “The favor they called in for this, I actually thought it would never get used.”

Keija thought of what she would say, “Mercer had a tendency to hoard things for himself,” the Imperial offered, finally looking at the woman beside her, “I pray to the Gods he would not mind ol Delvin cashing it in.”

Perhaps not, Mercer had always been a thief, unlike Brynjolf who had different thoughts to what being a thief entailed. Mercer liked to keep everything he had earned, because he had managed it and it was his prize, yet he wasn’t stupid enough to flaunt it about – it was why him having stolen the Skeleton Key and pretty much taking everything the Guild had to its name had been a big surprise.

Most thieves who would have pulled off such a thing would have been gloating about it, but Mercer had kept quiet and almost gotten away.

Unlike most thieves who would have found themselves dead, Mercer had found himself alive and there was absolute doubt that it was Nocturnal’s blessing. The woman he constantly thanked for his continued existence (and perhaps a changed man, even if he still left certain people with their pockets feeling lighter) was the girl that had followed him along like a lost pup.

“He would seem like the man to come down and haunt those who have done him wrong.”

The edges of Keija’s mouth quirked up, her scarlet eyes lighting up as she thought about the man she considered a second father.

“I would not put it past him,” She was sure Mercer would not have minded at all, but everyone had a different thought of the old Guild Master.

The moment lulled and Isabella began to check on her crew, Keija stayed where she was. This journey was a new start to her life, until she was able to slip back into her old one.  With one last final solemn look towards the horizon where Tamriel lay, she turned around and headed below.

The passage to Atmora was said to be long and she could only hope the Gods blessed them with a safe trip.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to figure out the other half to this and so I'm just staring at a blank word document, while constantly looking back at gameplays because even thought I started my own to follow, I completley forgot what I decided to do.
> 
> Meh.
> 
> Also at LadyHawke361, you're review and words made my blush, honestly ( ; ~ ;) I hope you are successful in whatever you end up writing!


	16. New World

Keija felt it deep in her bones.

There was a change happening around them and it felt suffocating.

“Mama,” the Imperial relaxed a little, looking down at her little girl. Keija knelt down so she could be eye level with her daughter those pretty gray eyes of hers looking oddly downcast. Tucking a strand of curly hair behind her hair, Keija hummed, so Valerya knew she was paying her attention. “Why does it feel heavy here?”

So she was not the only one who had noticed.

“I do not know my love,” Keija responded, her voice a soft whisper so the few crewmates around them would not pick up on their words. “But I will find out.”

Valerya pouted, usually when she asked a question her parents always knew the answer, for them to not know – where they really headed towards a strange land. She still didn’t understand why they had to leave everyone behind, Uncle Farkas was always willing to go out and fight, Aunt Aela could have shown her how to properly hunt, and Aunt Lydia….well she would have fussed over her.

“My magicka mama,” the girl began, only to be shushed by her mother.

“Not here, Valerya.”

It was not the sweet nicknames her mother used, it was her actual name and the girl had come to understand that when called by it, the matter was serious. For now, the five year old would enjoy the time at her mother’s side, watching the sun cast its beautiful colors across the sky.

Later she would ask again.

+++

The crew members always looked at them as if they were mere disturbances. They eyed his wife like a piece of meat, ready to be devoured and yet none tried after the first man had done so. Vilkas hadn’t even had to lift a finger; Keija merely chopped theirs and directed a rather tame glare at them.

Really his wife could be terrifying when she wanted too, but she was usually rather cool. Her sharp tongue and quick wit had won Isabella over and the two woman would spend certain days drinking together exchanging stories.

Or it was his wife’s appearance that won the other woman over, he had caught some of the looks Isabella would give his wife, and he felt a swell of pride in his chest.

Keija, his wife, the Dragonborn, _his wife,_ Slayer of Alduin, Thane of one too damn many holds, and above all, _his wife_ and mother to his child.

He rarely felt jealous or the need to doubt his wife’s fidelity, he had seen it in the way she treated Mercer after all those years how true she stayed to those she loved and cared. Her dragon blood lent itself over, merely making her a much fiercer protector and someone with a short temper when she was being bothered.

So it was obvious when his wife’s anxiousness began to show through, in the way she would wring her hands together, pace about their room, and exhale literal steam.

If he felt the stirrings of change, his daughter and her felt it much more drastically.

“What do we know of Atmora, Vilkas?” His wife asked one night after they got Valerya to bed and the two stayed up sharing a  glass of the honeyed mead they had brought with them (amongst _many_ other things).

“The Land of truth, the Nedic people hailed from there,” he responded, recalling what he had once read in a book. “It’s rarely travelled too now days, so this voyage is very peculiar.”

“Damned Thalmor, insistent little vermin they are,” growled his wife, leaning back in her chair as she took a drink from her bottle. “Always wanting to get in the way and claiming that they had done things! Pah.”

It was an old rant he had heard many times before and so the Nordsman only nodded his head, to show that he was listening.

“ _Avia_ Nidin would have never stood for this, not after all she’d done.”

Well that was a new one, Vilkas leaned his elbows against the table, a curious gleam in his eye one that Keija caught as she gave him a dirty look.

“I never did tell you, ya?” For an Imperial he had always wondered why she had such a heavy Nordic accent, then she had told him of how her father had raised her in a small house in the woods of Falkreath and how she spent a couple years on her own before she actually talked again and by then she was hanging around the Thieves Guild with Brynjolf of all people.

He had met the redheaded Nord twice and Vilkas wouldn’t be above blaming him for Keija’s speech.

“ _Avia_ Nidin died 150 years ago, but we respect her still to this day even though many have forgotten,” Keija sighed, one of  her hands twirling her hair between her fingers. “I have her journals if you are interested in the story of the Champion of Cyrodiil.”

Vilkas would admit to choking on his drink, whilst Keija cast him an unimpressed look.

She would later go on to say that she regretted informing him of such detail. He had pestered her for days after that until she handed over her families books and hadn’t seen him for much after that. As much as a warrior as Vilkas was, if tempted with an interesting book the man wouldn’t be found for days until he finished it.

+++

**.New World.**

Isabella had told of a few places they could find a home and they had taken her advice.

The family of three had taken a liking to Redcliffe – it was similar in weather to Whiterun, though instead of mountains looming in the distance, there was a stretch of water that brought humidity to the place.

The people were good natured and although some may be a little more prone to gossiping, it wasn’t something Keija and Vilkas weren’t used too.  

The talk followed them, the people wondered if they were married by the Chantry, though they never dared to ask the couple. Vilkas’ height and burly figure paired with Keija’s disarming smile that made her look positively wicked (especially those red eyes of hers) kept the people from actively prying into their lives.

Apparently the land they had come to _feared_ magic and she had been witness to a child being taken away from their family by a couple of armored men. Templars, they called themselves, not that she really cared.

She was very unimpressed with it all.

Back home anyone was capable of calling upon the power; it was just the need and want to do so. Most in Tamriel only shunned mages due to the Oblivion Crisis and the rumored appearance of the mage Mannimarco, but no one actively hunted them down and took them away to lock them up.

The idea that one had to be born with magic and for it to reveal itself in times of great crisis, just showed how cut off these people were from themselves if that’s what they believed.

She came to the conclusion that Thedas was ass backwards.

 So what if she fell back on old habits, the crotchety old ladies up the lane liked to talk about her and her family, well, let’s see how they felt about finding out their own had stolen from them. After the third time that had happened, Vilkas had given her a suffering look.

She gave him a sharp smile.

+++

**.4E of 207, Last Seed // 9.38 Dragon.**

“There is a job that was posted outside of the Chantry,” Vilkas spoke, pulling out a rolled up piece of parchment and handing it to her. “I thought you might enjoy getting out.”

For the last year and a half, Vilkas had been working, finding odd jobs to do. The gold (and the various odd trinkets Keija had collected over the years) they had brought with them would have been enough to live off, but they had agreed to use it in only an emergency.

In her quest to end Alduin, she had been through one too many caves, been distracted and entered various Dwarven Ruins, and had light enough fingers and new the trade of merchants that she could get more than she needed. As an Imperial her luck with rubbing to septim’s together and making two more appear seemed to exaggerate his wife’s wealth.

It was why he never truly had to worry about going out and doing quests when she had been gone. Here in this land, they at least had to make it seem like they were working hard to earn the little they got.

“This is to acquire a lost goblet, Vilkas,” his wife sniffed at him, scarlet eyes looking over the paper in interest. She always had a sense for finding lost things or stealing them, Vex had always given her burglary jobs when she was working for them _. “_ They are offering a lot of coin.”

“Yes, it’s been lost for a while, no one has found it,” he said, egging her on to take the challenge. His hand came down to pat his daughter’s head as she all but crashed into his leg; the seven year old gave them a gaped tooth smile. The sly look that came over his wife’s features made him want to shiver.

“I’ll find it in a month.”

And she did.

+++

Few people in this land dared to go through ruins – the thought of disturbing spirits or what old traps could be there didn’t bode well with them. Keija didn’t truly care what others thought. She respected the dead and at the moment knew better than anyone how the dead truly felt.

After going through Fort Calenhand and climbing the walls to get into the broken down section of the fort, she felt a shiver go down her spine. It felt as if something was watching her, she paused for a moment before continuing her search. After digging around a broken chest and resorting to scooping up handfuls of fresh earth did she come across what she was looking for.

The goblet had aged, the jewels encrusted around the brim glowing brightly.  She took great care in wrapping it up and tucking it away in her pouch, with that she made her way out and began her return to Redcliffe.

This soon became routine and Vilkas noted how much less tense his wife was, how even something as simple as going out to hunt for the old Elf near the inn would relax her.

And everything felt right, even if the land did not.

+++

**.4E of 210, Sun’s Dawn // 9.41 Dragon.**

The years continued on like this, until a certain request came to their home specifically.

“They want me to find an old woman’s ashes?”

As a thief she had no problem stealing from others, but as someone who just helped look for things because she couldn’t stand to be around Redcliffe for long, it was a little odd to be requested.

“I suppose and I don’t have to go too far either.”

The last job she had had taken her all the way to Orlais and by the Gods did she learn to dislike the uppity people she came across. Not even the Jarls and Nobles of Skyrim acted the way these tart fools did – well, one came to mind, but Maven was a woman that no one wanted to poke at ever, for fear of retribution.

On that thought it came a little late to Keija, why exactly Maven didn’t like her.

She was a brattling thief once and she was hazed and often dared to do things they thought she wouldn’t. So when Maven sent a very angry letter to Mercer, it was Keija and a few others who got an earful.

“What is that smile for?”

“I was recalling good times,” she answered, lacing up her boots and making sure that the small dagger she had strapped within wouldn’t bother her ankle. A slow nod from Vilkas, who really didn’t want to know and Keija was up and ready to leave.  “I will see you soon love.”

She kissed him goodbye, stepping out of their home and began to head up the path that led towards the Hinterlands.

“Mama!” a voice called out to her and Keija turned, kneeling down to her daughter’s height so the young girl could throw her arms around her shoulders. “Safe travels.”

The ten year old gave her a wet kiss on the cheek, her grey-blue eyes bright with tears when she pulled away. Keija smiled, her scarred lips smirking instead. Poking her daughter’s forehead, Keija nodded and straightened up.

“The Gods will guide me; pray to them for my return, my love.”

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit more....rough?  
> I'm not too happy with it.  
> Then again it seems that whatever I'm unhappy with, everyone else tends to like it.
> 
> Enjoy?


	17. Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did upload yesterday, Yes I took it down because I realized my documents had gotten out of order and I uploaded the wrong one.   
> So here's the correct one!

**.Feeling**

**4E of 210 Sun’s Dawn // 9.41 Dragon.**

She had always been much more kind hearted.

She would help without a care of what she got in return, her father – _Bernardus -_ had always told her to be friendly to those who needed it and more often than not the people were kind enough to do so in turn.

Keija had been adored by the people of Skyrim, for what she did for the common folk and what she did for Nirn itself. Even as she came across titles, as she was addressed and called on by Nobles and Jarls, she had never lost her sense to communicate with the people.

She had been one of them once.

A girl living in the woods of Falkreath with her father and then she was an orphan who at the age of 9 was struggling to live on her own. The only thing that kept her alive had been the skills and magic her father had taught her. It was Mercer’s pity that had given her a better chance at life, that had made her a willing thief.

It was also Mercer who let her go; knowing that even though he had brought her in and she had been willing, this was not a life for her.

She had managed on her own, her skills as a thief lending themselves to help her in many a struggle that she faced. When she had been dragged in by an overly zealous Farkas into Jorrvaskr she hadn’t been expecting much, especially not after fighting a Gods damned giant.

Once getting a feel for her, Kodlak presented her with a quest, to bring him the head of one of the Glenmoril Witches. The two worked in secret, Kodlak confiding in her after his lycanthropy was lifted that he had dreamt of her arrival. Vilkas hadn’t truly appreciated that a no name woman had such confidences with his Harbinger.

He had thought less of her, accused her of being a petty thief (and had been right, but she was not just _any_ petty thief). Barbed jabs had been endlessly flung at one another, she was but seventeen and she had perhaps succeeded in helping Kodlak in ways Vilkas wouldn’t ever have been able too.

The Nord was a man of twenty three, capable of holding his own and even keeping back his own inner wolf.

He hadn’t expected the small woman ( _she was tall for an Imperial, he was just taller_ ) to be able to actually hold her own when he wrangled a promise of a spar from her. She was flexible, incredibly graceful with the way she would shy away from his sword, she did not fight like a warrior – she was light on her feet and used the surroundings to her advantage.

She had proven herself to him then and he had perhaps become enamored with her and she him.

The ashy haired Imperial sighed, breaking away from her thoughts when her left hand twinged in pain.

Then she found out she was Dragonborn and the bloodlust and constant need to take and destroy tripled in intensity. Her fellow thieves had always said she was a little vicious – even Lydia had pointed out how much more she relished in fights against others compared to when she first met her. She rarely fought with her bow (but that was for good reason, that was her father’s, and if she used it like she did any other weapon, the only thing she had left of him would be gone) choosing to use twin daggers or various different types of magicks.

Ever since leaving Skyrim, braving the stormy seas and finding their way to Thedas, she had been constantly on edge. Everything about here rubbed her wrong and it irked her. Vilkas had noticed how she had a tendency to mess with the heads of the people of Redcliffe and turning them against one another when things were found out of their usual places.

It was _why_ she had been taking the odd job every other month.

To be alone and get whatever frustration that had built up out of her system.

There was still an itch she couldn’t scratch and she couldn’t wait for the day someone pushed her over that edge where she could let loose and not care.

+++

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you?”

The scarlet eyed woman merely looked the Seeker over and dismissed her, Leliana knew that would anger Cassandra more than she already was and she was proven right when the hot headed woman reached for the prisoner.

The sneer that crossed the woman’s lips as Cassandra grabbed her arm and forced the woman’s left hand up was impressive. The green light that fell over her face merely added to the look and Cassandra released the disgruntled woman, stepping back and began to circle her like prey.

“The Conclave destroyed, everyone dead _but you_ ,” Cassandra spat out, stopping behind the woman, her hand coming to rest against the pommel of her blade. “Talk.”

The woman only pursed her lips further, refusing to answer.

“We still have use for her,” Leliana said, her accented voice cutting in and getting Cassandra’s attention on her rather than on the idea of just killing the woman before them. Shifting her piercing gaze from one woman to the other, Leliana asked, “Do you remember what happened?”

The woman’s left brow rose, stretching the scar there a little and showing that she had just barely managed to keep from losing her eye. 

“No,” was her curt reply.

Her voice was scratchy from disuse; it was deep for a woman and perhaps carried an accent she had not heard yet. Before she could ponder further on the dark skinned woman before her, Cassandra was at her side, gesturing with her head for her to go on.

It seemed the woman’s cool had returned, at least for the moment.

“Go Leliana, I will show her what has happened.”

The red head nodded, casting one last look at their prisoner before heading out.  There was an odd feeling in her gut about the woman, one that didn’t bode well with her. It had been the same way when she first met the Grey Warden and if things continued as they had been, she would come to find out if it changed or not.

She dearly hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

+++

Keija was dragged along by the woman, returning the scathing looks and glares of the people with one of her own. They dared to blame her for something she had no clue of – the tear in the sky, the death of various figureheads, _ha_ if the Thalmor were here they would have a field day with trying to kill her. She was innocent and the leech in her hand pushed her anger further along.

Cassandra was the woman’s name, but Keija wasn’t feeling as welcoming to give her own. So she stood tight lipped as the woman finally cut her ties and began to lead her wherever it was she was going.

Without a weapon and feeling strangely vulnerable, Keija followed making sure to keep watch herself.

The sky above them crackled, the tear seeming to pulse in time with it. Her hand pulsed back and there was pain, when her eyes focused she was kneeling in the snow grasping her left wrist. Cassandra’s hands were on her pulling her up and steadying her before they resumed there walk.

Keija breathed shaking out her left hand.

It was a pain worse than bringing Valerya into the world and she wondered if she was cursed by the Gods, because surely this was no blessing.

And _of course_ the bridge they were about to cross happened to be destroyed by the magick in the sky. _Of course_ Cassandra ended up having an issue with her picking up a bow and thank the Gods she relented if not Keija was going to shout at her.

Keija breathed deeply, hoping to soothe her nerves.

No, no shouting would be useless against the woman who seemed to _want_ to help her but was conflicted because of her current status: Mass Murderer, Destroyer of the Conclave, perhaps even the Bringer of the Ends of Time?

_Pah,_ if she found whoever started this she would shout them to pieces and then she would show everyone _why_ you didn’t piss of a _Dovah._

+++


	18. Meeting

**.Meeting**

**4E of 210, Sun’s Dawn // 9.41 Dragon.**

Her attention went constantly back to the active piece of magick in her hand.

_Magick that did not belong to her and was slowly trying to kill her._

She ignored the conversation going on between the short man and Cassandra. The Elf was nice – he was quiet, kept to himself and didn’t try to needle pointless information out of her.

For some _strange_ reason the three behind her were following her lead.

_She had no clue where they were so why did they follow her?_

“Oh bloody fuck,” she hissed when the Breach above them surged, spamming out more demons and causing the mark on her hand to react in turn. “More are coming.”

She brought up the bow she had taken from the dead guard, notching an arrow back and flinging it before the demon that formed could begin to attack them. There was a screech from it and soon from the others as they were promptly taken down.

“You’re not from Fereldan are you?” asked the short man after she slung her bow back over her shoulder, searching the bodies of the fallen demon’s and picking up the arrows from the pile of ash.

“Curious little man, aren’t you.”

She continued on, going up the snow covered steps and pointedly not answering any other questions he asked. Really what was it with the people here, always so damn curious about where her accent was from or where she got the scars on her ‘pretty’ face and if she knew that there were ways to cover them up so it wouldn’t ‘offend’ or ‘terrify’ others.

More demons down and another rift to close, she didn’t need the Elf to tell her to close it. She tore through it, remembering the way it had flowed earlier and the instinct of the magick in her hand to reach out to its fellow and bring it forth.

They honestly believed the bloody thing in her hand _closed_ things.

Like if it was a key.

She would laugh at them when they figured it out later that the thing in her hand was a leech, sucking in any power and quietly hording it until the vessel (her hand) could no longer contain it.  She knew magick well, had been quite happy when her father had decided to begin to teach her many, many years ago and she understood what was happening.

And Keija didn’t like it one bit.

+++

“We don’t even have a name for the woman and you want to trust her?!” the Priest in front of her shouted at the warrior woman.

Keija in her years of being both the Dragonborn and a snooping thief knew what it was like to be talked about as if she wasn’t there.

It was still annoying. 

Someone cleared their throat and she took her gaze off the Breach and refocused back on what had been happening. A beat of silence when nobody spoke and she was about to resume her gazing of the abomination above when the red headed woman from earlier spoke – Leana was it?

“Since it can’t be decided, what path would you suggest we take, the mountain pass or should we charge with the soldiers?”

She could get used to her; it was almost like having Lydia, without the whole grating on her nerves thing. _Almost._

“What’s so important about either?”

The priest scoffed. The warrior woman cast him a dirty look and explained. Honestly they were wasting time just explaining things to her instead of deciding for themselves.

“There is a chance for the group of scouts to be living,” she mused out loud, her words slower than usual as she pondered it. It was a satisfied smirk that graced her lips when the man-priest turned red in anger and was about to shout something and the look she pinned him with that cut him off. “The Mountain Pass we go.”

+++

It was more of her need to not let lives go to waste that led them through the Mountain Pass. If she had known there would be so many damned ladders, she would have opted the other way.

Then again they should have decided for themselves, just because she had the bloody leech in her hand did not give her an opinion, especially when that Priest had been very insistent on having her chained up and shipped off to Val Royeaux.

At least the rest of the way towards the Ruin was much nicer, demon free and reminded her of Labyrinthian (minus the frost trolls). 

Walking through the ruins she expertly ignored the twisting bodies that had been left behind in the blast, making her way to the remaining edge of the balcony and giving them all a chance to really see how big this Breach was.

She looked from her hand to the abomination before her, slowly mouthing to herself _‘how on Nirn’_ when the Elf spoke up.

“If we can close this one, it will finish this.”

Her brow furrowed and she nodded, following behind Cassandra and the small man. She stepped away from the whispering red crystals that poked through the earth, feeling the hairs on her arms stand on end at the thought of actually touching it.

When they made it to the lower level the thing above them began to play a scene, the voice and visage of an elder woman calling for help, something slamming and the whisper of the thu’um being emitted. Then that voice spoke, distorted and chilling ordering for whoever was there to kill her.

“You _were_ there.”

The accusation in the woman’s voice was clouded by some other emotion, anger and something Keija couldn’t quite name. She would have been delighted to see that the other woman didn’t look at her as if all this was her fault, no _no_ there was a gleam of hope there now and Keija did not like it.

“Let’s finish this,” Keija hummed out, bow held in her right hand as she reached out with her left. There was a nod and a command passed along. Keija felt when they were all united, the magick thick in the air letting her sense around her for once. “ _Now.”_

She stayed _far_ from the horned demon that had emerged, often shooting an arrow or two at the soft side of its neck when it was at its weakest. Keija noted how the things that emerged seemed to freeze as if in shock when she tried to close the Breach.

It was not difficult to blend in with the shadow that was cast beneath the Breach. For the demon’s that strayed near where she was they were ended quickly, only barely seeing her coming before they fell to her hand.

Her braids had come loose, now plastered against her sweat slicked face and neck and she cursed when it got into her eye. She thrust her hand out once more, a war cry leaving her as she gave this one her all.

_“Close you damned thing.”_

Last she recalled was a cheer before darkness greeted her.

+++

A groan escaped Keija as she blinked up at the ceiling.

She noted the comfortable bed, the warmth of the room, and she sleepily reached out for Vilkas. She ended up grabbing a fistful of another pillow, a feeling of disappointment filling her as she eased herself up to glance at the empty bedside.

The door opening caught her attention, but she paid no mind to whoever it was as she moved to stand. The quiet shriek that left the woman before her did get her attention and Keija raised a brow.

“You’re a-awake!”

Keija nodded slowly, taking the slight form of the Elven woman. The Elf sputtered and Keija returned to glancing around the room, already dismissing her. It was another thud that came from the Elven woman and Keija was about to question her, only to find her kneeling beside her.

“Why are you doing that?” she asked, approaching the Elf who seemed to not have heard her as she babbled on.

At least she knew where she was, last she had been in Haven was a couple months ago to deliver a letter to the Innkeeper.

“You’ve saved us, word has spread on how you’ve closed the Breach and it’s all anyone has spoken about.”

Gossips, they were worse than the Whiterun Guards who had quickly spread the word about her having taken a Dragonsoul. Then again she could let the guards slide on that, whoever would have thought that the legends were true?

 “Right, so I can leave now, yes?”

The Elf stood up quickly, backing away from her, flinching as she caught Keija’s stare and opting to look elsewhere.

“The tear is still in the sky and – and Lady Cassandra asked to see you, at once.”

Before Keija could say anything else the Elf had already taken off, the wooden door closing shut behind her. Keija held back a snort, crossing her arms against her chest instead as she approached the box the woman had dropped.

She picked through the items, finding little of value to her she straightened up and began to look for her pack. She found it across the room sitting atop of a table and began to rummage through it, making sure that all her things were there.

The only thing missing were her daggers and the armor she had been wearing, which she found in the chest at the foot of the bed. Keija felt clean, but still ran a wet rag over her body as she changed out of the clothes they had put her in before putting on her leather armor.

It was her old thieves guild armor that she wore and it fit just as well as it had over twelve years ago and she was glad for the adjustments Mercer had made the last she saw him in Cyrodiil. Now all that was left was brushing her hair and braiding it back so it would stay out of her way and finding something to wash her mouth out with.

Finding mint leaves in one of the little cups she chewed on that while did her hair and spat it out into one of the empty basins once the braids were pulled tightly at the sides of her head and back. She left the lower half of her hair loose, deciding that that was enough and began to head out to wherever _Lady_ Cassandra was.

The guards stationed outside her room did not surprise her, yet they saluted her as she passed by. She found it both odd and smart that the soldier’s she passed were making sure she made her way up towards the Temple.

She heard the whispers and awe of the people and she wondered what the hell had happened for them to suddenly see her as this _Herald of Andraste w_ oman. It was unnerving and she wanted to sneer at them, to remind them that they thought her a murderer of their Divine.

Her blood seemed to pulse, the side of her she tried to keep at bay rising ever so slowly. She could feel the change in her eye, her pupil’s dilating and everything becoming more crisp, the smells of Haven – the fear, the awe, the sadness, the pain – becoming much more pronounced.

Keija breathed, not bothering to look at anyone as she finally came to the front of the Chantry, pushing at the doors and making her way to where that Priest man’s voice was shouting over the warrior woman’s.

Keija needed answers before she did anything rash, her thief side coming through and telling her that being bold and brash would do nothing. It sounded like a mesh of Mercer’s and Brynjolf’s voices and that soothed her.

Opening the door to the room, Keija strode in seeming at peace with herself, but Leliana could see the woman’s narrowed eyes and read the tense lines in her shoulder very well.

Idly Leliana wondered if the small chamber room would still be up once they finished ‘talking’.

There was more bickering between the three, Keija feeling out of place as she really did not think she should be there.

 “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

A questioning look was all Cassandra received and she pushed on, to the point that the Priest grew frustrated and left the room.

“Help us fix this,” Cassandra continued on as the door slammed behind the man, her hand hovering over the cover of the tome she had pulled out. “We will need your help.”

“Have I not done enough?” she responded, her features set in a stony countenance.

“You are free to leave, but it will not be easy.”

Keija kept herself from sneering at them as she nodded, “We shall see then,” and without another word turned on her heel and walked herself out of the room.

She had enough for the day, perhaps a walk around would ease her.

**4E of 210, Sun’s Dawn // 9.41 Dragon**

It had been nearly a month since she set off from Redcliffe to search the Temple of Ashes and everything had gone to complete and utter Oblivion about two weeks ago.

She was once more being called by Cassandra to the Chantry and Keija would eventually go. She made her way out of the small village and took one of the paths that led her towards the Breach. She couldn’t quite shake off the feeling of being watched and so she put up with it as much as it irked her.

She had already sent a letter to her husband and another one was in process, mostly just writing away about the annoyances that had sprung up in her life.  His response to her first letter had had her feeling actual joy, the bracelet that had accompanied it making her ache to return home.

Skirting around the edges of the icy lake, Keija felt at home.

All that was missing was a ruddy giant appearing from wherever they spawned and trying to swat her away with its oversized club.

“My Lady.”

It seemed Cassandra’s patience had worn out.

Keija did not acknowledge the person instead finishing off her walk and returning to Haven, by the time she made it to the steps the person that trailed after her bowed off once they were under Cassandra’s stern glare.

“You took your time.”

Keija hummed a slight smile curling her lips, “The sights were pleasing to my eyes.”

A noise of disgust (similar to the one she had used on the Dwarf way back when) escaped Cassandra as she turned on her heel and headed into the Chantry, Keija strolling in after her. Keija’s good mood was sullied when the Mark twinged and she couldn’t quite hide the grimace that followed the pain.

“Does it bother you?”

These people and their questions with their obvious answers, “Why would it not?”

She heard Cassandra sigh, the Seeker pausing just outside the room as she turned to her. Belatedly Keija realized that she was on the short side, though compared to the other women that were around, they were of the tallest.

“Why are you so difficult, I do not understand.”

Keija’s reaction to the rather blunt question was to raise a brow, it was something she could perhaps come to like about the other woman, how she spoke her mind and never beat around the bush.

“I wonder that too,” Keija responded her words a bit scathing. “Perhaps I will think about it later, you wanted me here for something else.”

“Hm,” the Seeker opened the door and led them in.

The door closed behind with a click and Keija was left judging the two new comers, who for some reason inclined their heads towards her. Oh, yes, she was the _Herald of Andraste._ The two were introduced and they greeted her, with that _bloody_ title. Her lip curled into a sneer,

“If you must, call me Keija.”

She heard a whisper from Cassandra _‘she tells us her name_ now _of all times?’_

The one named Cullen seemed a bit hesitant to do so, “Does the title _Herald_ bother you?”

“I do not follow nor believe in your Maker, why should I be called his supposed wife’s Herald?” She had read up on it and was most displeased about it, but the people did not listen, they insisted and she only gave them disapproving looks when they insisted.

Perhaps it would have helped if she gave her true name long before now, but she was stubborn and so very angry. She had left once already and the people outside of Haven that had barely heard the whispers of what she had done (along with the roaming Templars and Mages who would fight just about anyone) and loathe was she to admit that she had returned because she would have died.

The people in the room seemed taken back before they resumed what they had conjoined for. Once more Keija wondered _why_ she was here. The meeting began in full after that and she listened in, her thoughts drifting about – the Chantry had declared her a Heretic, the people were _using_ her as a symbol to believe, and now she had to do something about it because of the _damned_ magick in her hand.

She did not feel chosen like the people thought, she did not like that she was being pushed and prodded to accept a role she wanted no part in.

Keija had already done her work for the Gods and had done it by bearing the title and power of a legend. What was happening now was nothing more than a curse, a bout of bad luck.

When the meeting adjourned and she had been given a quest – something she was slightly glad for, even if it was talking with this Mother Giselle, it was getting her out of Haven without a sure promise of death at the people’s hands.

As the others exited the room, she stayed behind staring down at the marked spot of the Hinterlands.

“Dark Lady, have you cursed me as you once had the Guild?”

It would only make sense; she had harbored a man that should have paid his life to the thievery of her items. She would have to find a way to appease Nocturnal, even if she didn’t follow her – the Daedric Princes were like that, doing things as they pleased.

Leaving the room herself, she walked through the chantry hands clasped behind her back, deep in thought.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're back on track~~  
> :D


	19. Chapter 19

**.Worry.**

**4E of 206, Rain’s Hand // 9.37 Dragon**

Thedas had not been their destination.

The passing through the very heart of the Sea of Ghost and crossing the Padomaic Ocean had been ridiculous. The ship they had been smuggled onto had been hoping to journey towards Atmora. Vilkas was sure that the various violent storms that the ship had braved had turned them around.

While Tamriel had always felt light, Thedas felt heavy and even though the two moons still shown at night and the sun continued to light the day there was a difference.

Through all the ill his homeland had suffered in the last decades, Skyrim still stood tall. Its people always willing to give and fight for what was right. It was as if the Gods themselves protected them from whatever wrong was surrounding Thedas.

Keija had felt it too, but he was more akin to pin the blame on her dragon nature. Since her reveal she had become much more possessive and violent, though it was much better contained and relieved through various serious spars and a fight or two with a dragon.

It took them at least a year to finally settle down, their constant wondering never really showing how exactly Keija was feeling until they had been in Redcliffe for a couple months. His wife had always had her wit, so when she snarked one of the Priests, did Vilkas notice just how strange that had been of her to do.

“This whole place bothers me, it feels wrong," she had told him after she had explained _why_ the fight that had followed with the Priest happened.

 He couldn't help but agree.

+++

**.4E of 210, First Seed// 9.41 Dragon.**

He had rumors of the Herald of Andraste.

About the woman with the power to close the tear in the sky and how if this was the sign of the end of all times, she was perhaps the hope that the Maker had sent to help them.

He had also received a letter from his wife shortly after those rumors began in Redcliffe. When he read the contents of what was written he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry, perhaps a bit a both.

His wife was the bloody woman they spoke about.

“Gods, again?”

Had he not had enough to worry about when she was fulfilling her duties as the Dragonborn? At least she had been raised in Skyrim and knew the land – _here_ she knew and cared for nothing. If anything knowing his wife, she was going to dig her heels in and not budge.

Her dislike of the land had bled over to a dislike of the people, minus a person or two (the old Elf came to mind).

The letter told him that she was fine if not completely annoyed, to stay put where he was and take care of himself and their daughter.

Worry began to fester in his heart, scenarios playing out in his mind at what could possibly happen.

It was the voice of his daughter that broke him out, the bright cheery grin she gave him as she held out a bracelet to him.

“I made that with Miriam.”

Vilkas smiled, setting the crumpled parchment down and holding out his wrist for his daughter to tie the bracelet around.

“I made one for mama too,” Valerya said a little softer, pulling her hands back and fidgeting with her fingers. Keija had done that often when her nerves got the best of her and Vilkas reached out and clasped her small hands in one of his.

“She will love it.”

The ten year old gave him bright smile, before nodding off and going to wrap up the bracelet. Valerya was of the age now that she would understand what had happened to her mother. Vilkas just hoped that his daughter didn’t come to hate Keija once she realized she wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones a little odd, seeing as it goes back in time and then it skips ahead to current times.  
> But yes!  
> Sorry for the delay!


	20. Issues

**.Issues.**

**4E of 210, Sun’s Dawn // 9.41 Dragon**

Keija had been making her way around before she left to the Hinterlands with the others. She would miss the fresh, crisp air and the slight sting of cold that accompanied the winds in Haven, but she would be much happier away and out of the people’s eye.

Upon realizing that she was coming upon the Chantry, she made to turn back when the arguing voices of the mage and the Templar reached her ears. With her hands behind her back, she deliberately made her way closer, listening in on the petty argument until the Commander got in and dissolved it.

“And what _do_ you plan to do?” came the voice from the Chancellor, who strolled up ready to start bickering with the blond man.

She watched at how easily the Commander broke the crowd away, before turning to the Chancellor and spoke with him in low voices.

“Issues?” she spoke up, startling the older man, while Cullen cast her a wary look. She kept from smirking at the pair, keeping her face blank, hands unlacing from behind and coming in front of her.

“One stands before me,” Rodrick answered, openly sneering at her, “While many others remain unresolved.”

Keija left brow rose at that, “Best they remain that way,” the Imperial answered, “The land may be in chaos, but the people are free.”

She was entirely too amused by the pink that lighted the older man’s face, “People are dying and there is no one to reign them in –“

“Which is why the Inquisition was begun,” Cullen interrupted the man, not giving into the need to the urge to give the woman beside him a dark look.

“And who do you have to stand in, a heretic who believes in Gods other than the Maker –“ that elicited a snarl from the woman as she stepped forward, Cullen’s arm being the only thing that kept her and the man before her apart.

“My _Gods_ listen to me, unlike your Maker who has turned a deaf ear to you and your own,” the Imperial responded, her voice steely and eyes bright in a way that made Rodrick step back from her. “If you think I am as uncouth as to not understand your ways before denouncing them you are mistaken, little man.”

“A woman who cannot control her temper and –“

“Chancellor that is enough,” Cullen cut off the man again, the blond turning to the woman who was keeping her anger in check and was giving the man before them a rather chilling look. “ _Herald_ ,” because he knew it would catch the blasted woman’s attention, “I believe you are expected at the gates.”

She exhaled heavily through her nose, giving the Chancellor one more icy look, “The next time I return it will be to close that blasted magick in the sky.”

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started playing Inquisition (again) and I have realized there have been some very key moments that I would have liked this dragon lady to be a part of. 
> 
> This is what I get for going off of what I remember.
> 
> To everyone that has kudo'd, bookmarked and commented, thank you :)


	21. Companions

**.Companions.**

+++

The only person she actually ended up genuinely liking was the short man, who so happened to be a Dwarf.

Varric understood this and having dealt with Fenris’ finicky ass, he could put up with the woman’s stubbornness. Unlike Fenris though he didn’t understand why the woman had the attitude against others as she did. He would try to watch her, but it was as if she always knew when and how he was doing it.

So he stopped, because if someone knew they were being spied on and actively thwarted it, it would only take a short time for them to find who was doing the spying and dish out some can of pain.

He was happy to find out that Keija was capable of patience and actually liking people other than himself and maybe Chuckles, even if it was just the children that would come up to her.

And that was it.

Anyone that wasn’t a child and had probably already whispered and spoke ill of the woman were written off, judging by the blank looks the woman gave them. The scars over her left eye and the ones going down her right cheek and over her mouth didn’t help, giving her a feral visage. Paired with the dark skinned woman’s ruby red eyes, she cut a rather intimidating figure.

Varric felt lucky.

It usually was up to him get the unmovable mountain of a person to open up and this one was proving rather tricky. In the short time that he had known her, dealing with Keija was like trying to figure out if they should poke the sleeping dragon with a stick (he had no clue how accurate that thought of his was.)

Except for her name.

Which they had learned nearly _two weeks_ after they met the woman.

He felt sorry for the man that ever tried to romance Keija and almost looked forward to watching it happen. It would at least be good material for his books if she allowed him to use her for inspiration.

+++

Solas did not know what to truly think of the woman named Keija.

Compared to the other humans, she had not said anything about his person or his abilities. Instead she seemed a little more relieved to have someone like him and would more often than not seek him out to get away from the others, especially the Seeker.

He had seen her fight very little, but in the little he saw he noted that rarely a movement was wasted. She did no extra flourishes, no loud exclamations or explosions like some of Varric’s shots would do - she was quick and to the point.

There was also something about her that intrigued him; a sort of power that she seemed to give out that others could only hope to have. Perhaps in due time his curiosity of this doll would be satisfied or he would personally find out exactly what it was.

+++

**4E of 210, First Seed // 9.41 Dragon**

She had travelled enough of the land on her own to be able to go out and complete the quests – the three people that trailed behind her said otherwise. Varric was tolerable as was Solas, and she learned to put up with Cassandra.

Perhaps they thought she needed to be watched in case she tried to get away. It wasn’t as if the Sister’s people weren’t watching her every move back in Haven, now she was able to get away from the prying eyes and still she was watched.

At least they stopped believing her a murderer.

Yet it was still the first thought people thought of her when they saw her, they saw the culprit before they saw their named Herald of Andraste – a title which she had been trying to get rid of to no avail. They thought she was being humble, but in truth she was denouncing a title which she had no right too. She did not worship nor believe in this Maker and his wife; she had no right to take what was not hers.

Her feet crunched against the dried grass and she crouched down to inspect the healthy piece of elf root. With deft fingers she scavenged the plant, slipping it into one of the three pouches she carried – one for herbs, one for her poultices, and the last having been enchanted to store any extra weapons she could not carry personally.

The Hinterlands was abundant and though a part of her craved to head towards Redcliffe, she kept it in check. If they ever happened upon her husband and child, they would find a way to use them against her and damned would they be if they dared tried.

+++

Keija was a well-trained rogue, able to switch between a pair of daggers and bow in a mere instant. Cassandra often looked down on those who were trained in the skills of one, since they more often than not were thieves or assassins, learning to walk the shadows and to be able to hide from justice.

The dark skinned woman before her always carried herself with pride, never daring to slip into a rogue’s tricks when they came upon Mages, Templars or wild animals.

Cassandra just hoped that with the help of Mother Giselle, they would be able to turn the scarred woman from her disdain and perhaps see that neither the Chantry nor its word was as bad as she made it seem.

Solas on the other hand merely shook his head at the stubbornness of both women, knowing that it would be a long while before either side gave. The Mage even had a feeling that it would be the Seeker yielding before Keija ever did.

Varric’s own conclusions seemed to have lined up with Solas’, though neither man did dare bring it up in front of them. Though the first week had stretched on and become two and then three, they only had to deal with the polite, if rather curt face that Keija gave them.

The others, well, apart from the first meeting, Keija had not spoken much, choosing to just watch them try to find a way to placate the people and help the budding Inquisition. The woman was hard to read and even Leliana wondered what the woman could truly be thinking.

+++

**4E of 210, Second Seed // 9.41 Dragon**

+++

Val Royeaux was not her favorite of places, though it did often bring back memories of Solitude.

“And here comes the reason for all this madness,” the old woman spoke to the crowd, gesturing towards Keija as she trailed after Cassandra who led the way. “The murderer who still does not face justice and dares call herself the Herald of Andraste.”

Keija kept her tongue, letting Cassandra speak for now, until the woman gestured for her to talk, which she shouldn’t have done, “Believe what you wish,” Keija said, meeting the older woman’s gaze and felt a slight victory when the woman averted her own. “The Inquisition is trying to help.”

The older woman scoffed and Keija wondered if the only good introduction to these Priests she would have was Mother Giselle.

What followed after was of course not at all what she was expecting – the Templars denouncing the Chantry and becoming their own entity, the older woman who had been the main spokesperson against her had found more comfort in believing her word as a victim of fate than being divinely selected.

“I think we have seen enough,” Cassandra called to her, having been the only one to actually go into the Orlesian city with her. “It is best we make our journey back.”

“I believe you will go back to Haven, I will return to the Hinterlands with Varric and Solas.”

“Will you remain stubborn on this?” Cassandra asked, not at all happy to hear that.

“We will not let you travel to Haven by yourself; we will even wait for you to accompany us back if that is your wish.”

Cassandra brought a hand up to rub at the headache that was beginning to form, gently rubbing her fingers over her temple, “But you are –“

“I am what, Cassandra?”

“How about some tea before we leave?” the Seeker changed the subject completely and led them in a different direction towards one of the tea houses.

Keija merely followed after her, feeling a little smug at messing with the woman.

It was one thing that she had to stay around, it was another to follow through and fall into the position of leadership that was opening up to her. They could deal with the headache that was; she would be more than happy to just crack the skulls of Templars and Mages alike.

+++

They left Val Royeaux with new company (in the form of one elven girl Sera and the enchanter Madame de fur). There was also that odd meeting with Grand Enchanter Fiona as Cassandra had called her and the following invitation they received to go to Redcliffe.

Of course they did not make their way there, as was promised they returned to Haven to see Cassandra off, Keija taking along Sera, Vivienne and Varric with her. The Seeker wasn’t impressed with this, but it’s not like she could say anything.

The banter that happened between Vivienne and Sera was amusing, the obvious class difference and the way they carried themselves obvious on first glance, but it was something Keija easily ignored, tending to leave Varric to sort that mess out.

“Where are we headed darling?” Vivienne asked a few days later after they passed the makeshift village that had been one of the first the Inquisition helped and passed the main road that would lead them to Redcliffe.

“The Storm Coast,” Keija responded, “Leliana sent a message about a group wanting to speak with us.”

The Enchanter hummed, moving a little faster so she could walk beside the woman, “And what do you plan to do with them?”

Keija smiled at the woman and Vivienne was a little taken back that she could actually see how deep the scars went, the raggedness of them and the way they pulled at the simple gesture, “We are going to see them fight.”

+++

**4E of 210, Second Seed // 9.41 Dragon**

Closing the Rift that threatened the entrance had been easy, it was dealing with the stitches in time that would either slow them down or speed them up (leading to rather humiliating accidents for some who were not able to adjust in time).

While Keija truly wished to rush home and finally lay eyes on her family, she knew that taking care of whoever settled themselves in the city would have to be dealt with. The people she had come to pass and know in the last three years did not walk with ease; they were hunched over, eyes constantly straying to the skies or towards the castle, before scurrying away.

The usually hardy people were scared and seeing as it was so close to home, it would be up to her to fix it.

Pulling up the hood of the light cloak she wore, she made sure to walk calmly past her house and towards the arranged meeting.

When she met who she was supposed to, she was not at all impressed. Fiona had presented herself as a woman capable of taking care of her own, of having strength to stand for herself especially after what she had helped the mages do and now she bowed her head to this whelp of a man?

Introductions were short and the meeting didn’t even get a chance to start when Alexius’ son came under the weather. The man won some points with his obvious care of his son, choosing to postpone rather than to continue on as most others would have done.

The note that had been tucked into her hand when she had caught the stumbling boy of course led her to meeting a rather interesting figure.

“A pleasure to meet you, my dear Herald.”

She did not scoff as she used to, nor snort in disdain – she had learned to not kick down the belief of the people, for it was that that kept them moving. Her gaze said it all however and people tended to not speak of her Heraldness again (at least in that moment, they of course would continue to do so at a later date.)

“Keija,” even her housecarl’s (the many that she had happened to come upon due to various Jarl’s trying to outdo one the other and name the Dragonborn as their Thane) had learned to refer to her by her given name.

The man went on to explain once Alexius’ supposedly sick son appeared.

She had too much experience dealing with troublesome situations, when it was all explained to her she only responded with a simple, “We shall see,” and turned on her heel and left the Chantry.

Cassandra could deal with that, though Keija already knew what she herself would be doing. At the moment, she would be writing another one of her letters and make sure her family received it.

+++

“ _You will not speak a word of this_ ,” she breathed to Dorian, her patience finally slipping and using the thu’um against the men that had entered he cell. The dark skinned man nodded slowly, feeling the power emanating from the woman before him – it was both magic and something other worldly. Glancing down at the bodies that floated face down in the water, it was definitely not something he ever wanted to be on the receiving end of.

She let him go and searched the bodies, filching the key they had used to open the cell, along with any personable items.

“There is no map of this hold,” her voice was low and Dorian had to focus on it. When the cell door was open she held up her hand, a small ball of clear light showing up in her hand and detailing the path the men had taken.

“You are a mage?”

“Another thing you will keep to yourself,” Keija responded, turning to look over her shoulder and the Tevinter man could barely hold back a shiver at the slits her scarlet eyes had become. “I am no mage, but I do know magick.”

They began to walk up the stairs, following the path her magicka had laid out for them to follow.

“But if you know magic, surely you are a mage then.”

“No, I know how to _use_ magicka, though that does not make me a mage,” Keija responded, holding a hand up so the man would keep quiet. There was the sound of more guards coming down and Dorian shivered, feeling the hairs on his skin stand on end as he caught the wicked gleam in her eye.

When the men gathered before them, Keija smirked at them, her eyes glowing.

“ _Yol Toor Shul!”_

+++

When they began to come across the people she had been travelling with, Keija ceased her use of the thu’um and magicka. Vivienne seemed to barely be holding her wits about it and Iron Bull looked more on the verge of just killing anyone that stood in his way, while Leliana kept to herself, eyeing everyone and not thinking twice when she notched an arrow and let it loose.

It came as a relief to finally finish the puzzle that was Alexius’ door and once more the fighting commenced. 

“We will buy you time,” Vivienne spoke as Dorian tinkered with the amulet that Alexius had used. She gripped her staff, her head bowed forward and eyes closed.  Her shoulders finally settled and she looked up, eyes clearer than they have been since she had been rescued, “Be sure to return and fix all this.”

Iron Bull followed behind her, saluting the two of them as they shut the main hall’s door behind them.

The minutes ticked by and the sound of fighting grew louder, there was a shout, followed by a loud manly cry and silence.

“Dorian,” Keija murmured, keeping her eyes on the door, seeing as Leliana readied her bow and as they were torn open, watched in awe at how quickly and flawlessly Leliana fought. “God’s help us, Akatosh we look to you for time and you Stendarr, give us the mercy we need –“

A light engulfed them before she could finish her prayer, Dorian grabbing her arm and pulling her along. The darkened room, that had been filling with snarling demons was no more, Alexius stood stock still, disbelief clear on his features and before he could even call for his guards he heard their cries as they were killed by the incoming soldier’s.

“You have lost,” was all Keija said to him, signaling for the Inquisition soldier’s that had come through to apprehend him.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably glossing over alot, these actually were all supposed to be short little drabbles, detailing snippets of Keija's life and role.
> 
> She's for sure against everything, but can go along with it if she must (or if she has no choice, the mark in her hand doesn't give her any at all.)
> 
> Anyway, hope you all enjoy~


	22. Family

**Family II**

**.4E of 210, Second Seed // 9.41 dragon.**

It had been four months since she had last seen her family and while the Inquisitions troops rounded up the mages and got them moving, she was able to slip away. It was easy to make her way to the place she had been calling home; as she knocked on the door, she waited with baited breath, not knowing how exactly she would be received.

When it opened, it was her daughter that she was peering down at, who looked at her for a second before literally flinging herself and wrapping her arms tight around Keija’s waist.

“You’re back!”

Her arms wound around the ten year old, picking her up easily as she made her way into the modest home. Keija pressed a kiss against her daughter’s temple, easily holding up the child whose head barely reached her sternum.

“I have missed you,” Keija crooned against her hair, letting her daughter rest her head against her shoulder, “Though I am afraid you will have to forgive me again, love.”

Valerya heard the tone in her mother’s voice, quickly pulling back and giving her mother a pleading look, “Please don’t leave again, mama, things are happening.”

“I know love,” she could not tell her daughter that she was unwilling in helping the situation with the Breach, the child would say that if she wanted nothing to do with it then she should come home. “I –“

“Val, who is – _by the Gods woman!_ ” Valerya slipped out of her hold, watching as her father easily picked up her mother and held her in his arms, his face resting where hers had been only seconds ago. She watched, knowing she shouldn’t be pouting that her mother would be leaving so soon.

Keija held her husband’s face in her hands, “I have missed you so much,” she said to him quietly, leaning her forehead against his, “And I am so sorry, Vilkas, I did not plan –“

“Shh,” he shushed her before she could even begin to apologize, knowing her she would be long winded and repeat herself, so instead he kissed her, his hand cradling the back of her head as he leaned in. He pulled away slightly, his nose brushing against hers, “I will stand by your side no matter what, I promised you that many years ago.”

Keija could feel tears in her eyes and she leaned forward once more, kissing Vilkas, before resting her forehead against his shoulder, taking in his scent and the feel of him.

“The next time I come back, you will come with me,” Keija promised, her feet finally touching the floor though she still leaned against Vilkas. While one hand was on her husband’s chest, the other reached out for Valerya, who gingerly grasped her hand.

The gray eyed girl noticed the bracelet she had weaved many weeks ago around her mother’s wrist and she smiled, knowing that her no matter how far her mother’s journeys took her, she would always find her way back.

“I promise.”

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was reading through the various drafts I have of this and I realized that in almost every single one I had killed off Vilkas. Safe to say, I am happy that I kept through with this one because honestly Keija doesn't deserve that.
> 
> ^^ happy new years everyone!


	23. Understanding

**.Understanding.**

**4E of 210, Midyear // 9.41 Dragon**

+++

As the mages gathered themselves and began to make their way towards Haven, Keija and the others finished up the business with the horses with Dennet and helped clear out whatever remaining forces of the Templars and Rebel Mages had remained in the woods of the Hinterlands.

In as little over four months, the Inquisition had grown, many people coming to support and help out in any way they could.

“Something on your mind?” it was Dorian who strolled up and took a seat beside her, trying to make himself comfortable.

“You are like Varric,” she responded, checking her blade before she began using the whetstone again, “You ask questions and expect answers.”

“You seemed very talkative in the distant future.”

She glanced at him, a brow raised and Dorian wanted to ask how she had received those scars and if she knew that there was creams and spells that would hide them away. He kept his tongue, when she shook her head at him, “I distinctly remember your voice being a constant sound throughout that short journey.”

So he had a tendency to talk when he was thrust into an unusual and very far out situation, but really could anyone blame him? Had _she_ not lost her temper and showed her hand and power that she was capable of wielding?

“Tell me,” Dorian decided to push his luck, already feeling a kinship with the woman, “Where are you from?”

She sighed, finally satisfied with the sharpness in one of her blades and sheathing it away, and reached out for the other, “Why are you people so curious, is it not enough that I am already helping this damned Inquisition?”

“If you’re so against it you – right,” he kind of forgot about that weird mark on her hand, which he really shouldn’t have seeing as it was her _trademark_. Before he had met her, he honestly believed the Herald of Andraste would be a self-less woman, wrongfully blamed at first, but willing to forgive those who had wronged her.

Keija did not fit it at all.

She was not as cold and cruel as she appeared to be, not when she was the very person helping the people of Fereldan and trying to close the huge rift in the sky. Still it was mostly under her supposed power and name that they were able to work so well and yet she let the others lead around and take charge, not really seeming to care what they decided to do.

He would admit to being curious about the woman and he wanted to know what made the so named _Herald of Andraste_ tick.

“One more question, when was the last time you returned to Haven?”

Here she snorted, “About three months ago, I get those blasted birds from the Nightingale informing me what is happening,” here she frowned, running her thumb over the edge of her blade, barely drawing a thin line of blood. “I do not know why she bothers, but the Seeker seems adamant that I remain informed and a part of any decision making.”

“Are you saying you have not had a proper bed and bath in weeks?”

She ceased what she was doing and turned to him and Dorian was a little unsettled at having her full attention - really why did she have to have such an intense gaze? Her eye color didn’t help and actually unnerved him a little and for a second he found himself back in that watery cell, being held by the collar of his armored coat.

“I bathe in the streams and am fine with sleeping in a tent.”

“Surely,”

“Oh look a letter.” She held out her arm, the raven landing on her wrist and letting her unfurl the letter it had been caring. “To the feeder with you,” she turned to Dorian, “If you will excuse me.”

She sheathed her daggers and got up, leaving the Tevinter mage by himself.

A feminine chuckle arose, getting Dorian’s attention, “What are you laughing at?”

Vivienne quirked a brow at him, strolling past him, “Nothing, it is just amusing to see others try to get through to her.”

“Like you haven’t.”

Vivienne hummed, yes at first she had, it was why she had invited Keija. She had wanted to meet the woman who was amassing power, whose name was growing and was the gossip for all nobles and peasants alike.

No one could give her a solid description of the Herald, many came claiming they were put were soon put down when they didn’t have the mark to prove it.

+++

_When she first met Keija, the woman was dressed as if she was about to go hunting, though she would not look down at the actual fine leather outfit the woman wore, even if it wasn’t proper for the occasion. Then that fool Marquis had to stroll up and ask the woman to a petty duel, to answer whatever injustice he felt the Inquisition had started._

_Vivienne had asked of course what she wanted done and Keija had decided to take up the man’s offer of a duel._

_It was embarrassing to see the woman soundly beat a man who had supposedly trained to be a duelist, even if he was a bit of a disgrace. While he had followed the steps he had been taught to use, the Herald merely parried, until she had enough and brought the man down._

_“That is not –“_

_“You lost,” Keija had tempered, her voice rending chills, “Take it as is, or I will be done with you.”_

_There was a promise in those eyes that had the Marquis bowing his head, giving in and sheathing his blade. As he left Vivienne approached and she marveled at the woman before her, “I assure you just brought more attention to yourself than you should have, perhaps not the best of moves.”_

_The Imperial’s lips quirked, a smirk teasing its way on her lips, “Perhaps, but I do not care, people are petty and they should be reminded that I am not here to please them.”_

_“So tell me Madame de Fur, whatever is it that you called of me here?”_

+++

**4E of 210, Midyear // 9.41 Dragon**

Returning to Haven was more to check up on the mages that had already arrived were settling in, while she did receive contempt from certain people, Keija was of the mind that it did not matter.

They had wanted her to help make decisions hadn’t they?

She had been making her way through Haven, stretching her legs and just relishing in the short peace she had before she had to set out again, when she found herself near the training area.  The clash of steel, the shouts of pain, mingled with curses took her back to a much simpler time.

“Commander,” she greeted the blond when he took notice of her. “How goes –“

“ _Can you just believe the decision, after all those blasted mages have done,”_ she overheard one recruit say, though Cullen hadn’t at all caught it, if not he would have called out the man.

Cullen noted the shift in her expression, where it had been for once peaceful and calm, it turned into a haughty expression, her eyes straying from him to his right, her left, and landing on a recruit that paused when he felt the Herald’s gaze.

“You step out,” she called, jutting with her chin for the man to come forward. His partner and the other around him stopped, watching as the one who had been talking got called out.

_“how did she hear?”_

_“She’s calling you.”_

_“Go.”_

He didn’t move.

Keija tsked, shaking her head, “Bloody milk drinker,” Cullen’s brows rose at that (was that supposed to be an insult?) “Come here now, I will not repeat myself a third time.”

“Yes ma’am.” Good, at least the man didn’t stutter as he sheathed his sword, coming to stand before the two of them.

Keija frowned at the others, “What are you three looking at?” The remaining three straightened up, looking between themselves, before they began taking turns on one another. Keija sniffed, scarlet gaze returning to the recruit before her, “If you like to talk, you can go sit at the tavern and have a drink with the hens gathered there.”

“No m’lady!”

“Then?”

Cullen…honestly felt for the recruit, Keija in this temperament was…imposing. And she had been in a good mood for once too.

“I will not explain myself to you, if you have issue with decisions that are made, you are more than welcome to come and challenge me.”

“ _Herald?”_

“The old fashioned way,” Keija continued on, ignoring Cullen, beginning to take off her leather gloves. “With our fists, none of this dueling shit nobles do for honor.”

“Are you suggesting brawling with my recruits?” Cullen cut in, not at all having ever foreseen this situation (at least between the men themselves, not _Keija_ of all people._

Keija shifted her weight, cocking her hip out to the right, hand coming to settle on her waist, “Why not? Man enough to talk, man enough to brawl, no?”

“I am afraid that will not be good for moral, Herald.”

“Oh?” Keija pursed her lips, looking…..was she disappointed? The disappointment was wiped away quickly, a gleam and a sly smirk curling her lips. The ashy haired woman tugged her gloves back on, her hands going onto the handles of her favored weapons. “How about a one on one training session _whelp_?”

Keija turned to him, “I will speak with you after this session, Commander.” She gave the recruit a withering look, gesturing for him to step back, “You back to where you were, and let me see how far your training has come.”

Cullen watched, not noticing when Cassandra came up to him, “Is that...”

“…Yes…”

Cullen couldn’t help but wince when the woman swung both of her blades at the recruit, his shield up in hopes of blocking her, only for the force of her blows to make him stumble back, his arms moving in the direction she had forced him to go, giving Keija the opening to kick his side and send him crashing into the ground.

“I believe I have never seen her fight,” He commented aloud for Cassandra to hear.

“Absolutely vicious, she moves light on her feet and is as quick as a wolf that has found its prey,” Cassandra said, watching as Keija sheathed one blade and held her hand out to the recruit. The woman helped the recruit up, this time standing beside him, explaining where he had done wrong and correcting it or giving tips on how to right himself back.

A few minutes passed as that happened, before Keija stood in front of him and she was attacking again, though this time the soldier didn’t stay back and take the blows, he went in with as much strength and speed that he could muster, still stumbling back, though he managed to keep his grounds.

When Keija swung again with her blades, he pushed his shield out to meet her blows, a loud clang and sheering sound as the metal scraped against metal. He pushed her left, the opposite way she had attacked, pushing her back and leaving her stomach open, and he swung his longsword with his momentum.

Keija moved, dropping her weapons in favor of stepping back from the blow, the recruit seeing this, finished through his swing and was beginning to drop his guard. The man saw Keija shake her head and he only managed to bring up his shield when she came at him again, this time all fists instead of weapons. He was about to knock her back, only for her to grab the wrist of his sword arm and twisting it painfully for him to drop his sword.

Now the recruit only had his shield and Cullen wondered what else she would do (no one noticed that the rest of the fighting had ceased, watching the Herald fight was as close as seeing her in action as they could get.)

“Better put up a tough front,” Keija murmured, eyes gleaming with challenge, her grip on his wrist tightening as the recruit visibly steeled himself. He only bothered to shield the upper half of his body, with the way he stood, he was more concentrated and focused on keeping that area safe; without another wasted minute she released him, putting her arms together as she brought them down against his shield,  the metal of her gauntlets ringing against it. Her force was enough to push him back a step, enough for her to drop down and swipe his feet from under him.

She righted herself quickly, grabbing the small blade she kept in her boot and held it at the recruits neck, “Dead, but much better than your first time.”

The man just groaned the air having been knocked out of him as he lay flat out on his back. Keija rose once more, holding her hand out, waiting for him to grab it. As she helped him out she turned to the others that had been staring and gave them a toothy grin, “Commander, I think I quite like this sparing with your trainees, I would not mind spending some time training with them personally.”

That was perhaps the most voluntary thing Keija had said since she had gotten here, “We can plan out a schedule, Herald.”

She pulled her hand out of the recruits grip and thumped him on the back, “Your name, whelp?”

“Dylan, Herald.”

“See that you keep that up, yes?”

And with that she proceeded to pick up her weapons, checking over them before sheathing them and heading towards Cullen. She stopped before the blond man and noting the lack of steel bashing against steel, she raised her voice, “Well? Get back to work all of you!”

“Herald –“

“ _Keija,_ Cullen.”

“I mean, yes, Keija, why did you –“

“You should work on your ears Commander; men like to talk between themselves as much as women do.”

Cassandra coughed into her hand to cover up the sudden chuckle that came up. Keija rose a brow, seeming amused for the moment and Cullen looking exasperated, “We will be setting out again in two days’ time Cassandra, with Sera and Vivienne this time.”

Cassandra nodded in understanding and without another word, Keija turned on her heel and began her usual walk around Haven, heading past the smithy and further into the mountain path that led towards the Breach.

“Absolutely terrifying,” they heard the lucky recruit speak as he resumed once more with his previous partner.

“I wonder what it’s like, her going all out,” Cullen wondered to Cassandra, who shook her head.

“Are you interested in her fighting or something else Commander?”

Cullen was left sputtering.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keija just loves fighting.....or beating people.   
> Its a good way to express yourself!
> 
> Also this is me avoiding writing my paper that's due tomorrow.
> 
> Thank you LadyHawke361! As long as it helps her family Keija will save the world again, a bit begrudgingly, but she'll do it.


	24. One Door Closes

**One Door Closes**

**.4E of 210, Sun’s Height // 9.41 Dragon.**

The next time Keija saw Haven was a month later, this time with a new tag along by the name of Blackwall, along with Solas and Sera (who loved to get under the others skin).

“My Lady –“

Sera snickered and tried to smother it when the so called Herald turned her gaze to the Grey Warden, “I am no such thing, Blackwall,” Keija’s voice was always so lovely to hear, Sera thought. The battle hardened woman before her was so completely different from what she was used to meeting – be it nobles or peasants, warriors or thieves – there was something about her that screamed something else and it was that which Sera followed.

The woman before her could walk in the shadows with the best of thieves, but could also fight against the mightiest of warriors and had proven it time and time again when they came across rogue mages and Templars.  Really to see see Keija in battle was such a treat and Sera would try her damned best to never miss the beast of a woman fight.

“Herald then?” the Grey Warden tried, not at all quailing under the woman’s eye.

“ _Keija_ , please,” the Imperial answered, a hand running through her ashy hair, “I am sure you of all people would understand the annoyance of being referred to by a title all times.”

Blackwall cleared his throat, nodding his head along, “Keija,” the Warden repeated, getting a hum of approval from the woman. “What plans have you for the Breach in the sky?”

Scarlet eyes flicked up to the heavens, where the usual brilliant blue mixed with the ugly tainted green magic that flickered. Her left hand idly drummed a rhythm against her thigh before clenching into a fist, “Solas would know much better, he has been working with Cassandra and the others and instructing the mages on what to expect when the times comes.”

Said Elf cleared his throat, a hand coming up to cover up the smile that quirked his lips; Keija as always had said enough and found a way to deflect the conversation away from her and onto someone else, “The _Herald_ ,” he began, slightly enjoying the way her eyes narrowed, “has gathered enough mages to work up the magic that managed to open the Breach,” he explained, feeling both Sera’s and Blackwall’s attention to him.

“Since the mages have all arrived at Haven all that is needed is the foci,” here he gestured toward Keija’s gloved hand, “from what I understand of both the Breach and its previous reactions before it settled, the amount of magic we have on our side will guarantee closing it entirely.”

Blackwall didn’t truly understand how exactly the magic would work, but he would leave it to the Elven mage, who seemed to know what he was talking about.

Looking at the sky above, Blackwall could hope that this all righted itself soon enough and if not, well, he was ready.

It wasn’t as if he had much going for him anyway.

+++

Her second time (or would it be considered her third?) with the Breach had gone much smoother than the last time.

On one hand at least she hadn’t fainted, which was always a plus in her books.

On the other, she couldn’t help but judge the festivities the people partook in. Keija couldn’t fault them for celebrating, the tear in the sky was gone ( _as gone as it could be, while leaving its mark behind in the night sky_ ) and the rifts were the only problem to deal with.

The thing was, by what she had assumed of the magicka, shouldn’t her marking, along with the rifts that were still being reported open, have closed as soon as the big one had been taken down? She sat on one of the benches outside the Chantry, enough  shadow cast over her spot that it kept her from being noticed.

“You know I am happy to have learned your tricks,” Cassandra commented, stepping up, two bottles in her hand. The Seeker looked to be in high spirits, looking just as happy as the others to be rid of the mark in the sky. “Here,” The dark haired woman handed one of the drinks over to her, “A well-deserved drink.”

Keija took it, never one to deny a free drink, she sipped at it, surprised that it was not the usual bitter ale that the tavern tended to serve, “I have heard you mutter about the ale, I am in agreement, this is some of my own.”

The Imperial was taken back at that, “…Thank you.”

“It is I who should be thanking you,” the woman responded with, taking a seat beside her. There were a few minutes of comfortable silence between the two, before Cassandra spoke up again. “What will you do now?”

Keija mulled it over a moment, “I suppose –“ Her words stopped as she finally looked up, red lights from a distance catching her attention. “What is that?”

Cassandra looked up, slightly squinting to see if the image she was seeing would change, “Sound the alarm, round up the others,” Keija said, before knocking back her drink and setting the empty bottle on the bench.

“What if they are allies?”

“We do not, it is best to be prepared.”

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I disappeared for a bit.
> 
> Sorry about that, I got caught up in school and I started working again.
> 
> But yes, there's a second part to this, which should be up soon. and then we'll continue off to Skyhold and all that good stuff.


	25. Another One Opens

**.Another One Opens**

**4E of 210, Sun’s Height // 9.41 Dragon.**

They had gathered in the Chantry after doing as much as they could, the boy with the wide brimmed hat brought in Chancellor Rodrik the man seeming to have found his humor, when he commented towards Cole “ _What a charming boy”_ when he had commented about him dying.

“There is nothing else to do,” Cullen said, sounding defeated. “We can continue on, choose our way to die, but this is all we can do.”

Keija stood still, eyes closed with her head bowed forward in silence, not at all bothering to comment on the dire situation.

“There is a way,” Rodrik rasped out, “A path of a pilgrimage I took once, to lead us all safely out.”

Cullen shook his head, “Even if there is a path, we need a distraction –“

“Go on,” Keija spoke up, looking at Rodrik. The man breathed heavily and Keija, though she never really cared what the man thought of her, kneeled, taking his hand in hers. “You will save many lives with this, Mara will smile kindly upon you, I pray that Arkay take care of you.”

Rodrik did not know the names of those she spoke, but he felt something warm settle about him and if he sat a little straighter, no one but Keija would notice as she inclined her head towards him. “Go on, lead them.”

“Herald this, you will not come back from this,” Cullen commented, having already spoken with a few soldiers to help along the Chancellor. “Perhaps…maybe we will be surprised.”

“A good man you are, Commander, watch over them,” Keija said to the man, turning to those she had asked to stay with her. “You do not have to come with me, I will let you decide that for yourselves.”

With that said, she took a deep breath and opened the Chantry’s doors one last time.

+++

The others had managed to retreat within the same time the great dragon landed.

Keija looked at the distorted figure of a man through one eye, the other having swelled shut from a hit she had taken from one of the attacking Templars. She could feel her body aching, the cuts and bruises she had sustained in this bloody battle making themselves well known as she tried to keep her body up.

“ _You_ ,” the figure hissed, one hand reaching out to her.

A sharp pain was felt through her left hand, a cry leaving her as her she felt herself be drawn to whatever magic the abomination before her was using. She hung in the air as he grasped her wrist, a twisted scowl on his features as he looked over at the leech in her hand before her throwing her away.

She rolled in the snow, finding herself near the launcher, she quickly moved herself up. Her shaky legs almost let her down, but with luck (and a bit of healing magicka on her end) she righted herself up, picking up a stray sword that belonged to a dead templar.

“You have corrupted it,” the thing sneered, the great dragon landing behind him acting as big and mighty as its size, but none could ever compare to the God she once knew and so she felt no fear as the being and dragon crept closer.  “All my plans, soiled by a measly woman,” it continued on, “Do you think you are doing justice, Herald?”

She didn’t respond, keeping her body at the ready and her eyes trained on him for the right moment. She would die here, she knew it, she felt it in her being as she figured cutting the rope that held back the trebuchet and bringing the mountain down on the small town and on whatever stood before her.

“I tell you that there is no God, so what good does it do to stand against me, who will soon be one?”

Keija scoffed and here the being took to actually looking at her, the way her eyes glowed and the snow seemed to pick up, “Your death would prove that there is no Maker, that there is no hope.”

“ _Your_ Maker,” she corrected him, her accented words heavy and guttural sounding, the dragon before her raising its head and she could practically taste it’s fear as it realized who was before it, “The Old Gods will forever be with me, Oblivion take you _Corypheus._ ” And without much thought she slashed at the rope when the bright red light flared up in the sky, turning around without much thought as she fled, running in hopes of living, but knowing that no human could outrun the incoming avalanche.

The rumble behind her was loud, she could feel it on her heels, felt herself succumb to a dark, quiet peace and in all her time since she came across the mark in her hand, Keija let herself relax. There was a whisper, a soothing feel and Keija knew no more.

+++

She woke with a whisper in her ear and instantly regretted the way her body tensed, the wounds from – she sat up, not at all caring about the way the _healed_ and c _losed_ wounds of her body twinged at the sudden movement.

“I am alive?” she asked aloud to no one, her voice cracking over the syllables, “ _How?”_

Keija felt a chill down her spine when the caw of a crow – or was it a raven – echoed in the place she was in. A chuckle reverberated around the walls and from the shadows stepped forth a figure that she had only heard of from Delvin’s stories.

“ _Nocturnal_.”

The hooded woman’s features were obscured, so Keija missed the almost tender smile the being gave her before it eased away.

“You have done much in your life have you not Dragonborn?” Nocturnal spoke her voice smooth and inviting, already casting its own brand of magic to catch the Imperial’s attention. “An interesting life you lead and I am curious to where it will lead you.”

“I will make no pact with you, Nocturnal.”

The robed figure laughed a silky sound that would have drawn anyone to her, “Tis no need child, I am only here on behalf of the precious few who pray for you.”

Keija frowned, slowly pushing herself up as she eyed the being before her, “And what has swayed you to follow the prayers of mortals.”

Nocturnal gifted her with a sharp smile and a peek at her glowing amethyst eyes, “Curiosity, it has been long since the world faces what is to come, I am merely making sure it continues on.”

Keija’s lip turned up in a sneer, because of course she would, “You know what is happening.”

The being chuckled, arms crossing beneath her chest, emphasizing how the cloak that draped her barely covered her at all, “Very few have that power to know, I am only assuring myself my own amusement.”

Always so self-serving, it was why she never bothered with the Daedric Princes, not even when they gave her the sweetest of gifts or the promises of forever, she was no fool.

“I will take my leave,” Keija announced to the Daedric Prince, whose feet barely touched the ground now.

“Lady Lucky is with you, Dragonborn.”

The Imperial waited for the being to disappear, a deep scowl on her features as she figured her way out of the cave she had found herself in.

“ _Tsun hear my words; guide me through this path that has been set before me, through the uncertainty of it, I look to you to help me in my darkest hour._

_Kyne hear me, grace me your strength and keep my sword arm strong._

_Mara hear me, grant me your shield to protect those I love._

_Akatosh guide me in this time of my need as one of your daughters, give me strength and time._

_And to you Shor, I will see you in your hall when my time comes, for now bless me and my own and we will show you a battle that rivals that of the Aldmeri._

_Gods be blessed and give unto me, a mere servant of your whims, for I will follow and do as I must in your name.”_

+++

Keija could not bring herself to clear the incoming snow storm for a third time, the bit of Nordic blood that she had in her could only do so much against the cold that seeped through her torn and broken armor.

_(The wolf, how it cried so prettily in the distance, if she pretended that it was Vilkas howling when he had his wolf form, no one would know, nor be the wiser.)_

Breathing was becoming much harder to do and she could feel herself falling, her knees finally giving out even though the fire she saw was close – if only she could reach just that, then she would be fine.

She shuddered out a breath, the names of her husband and daughter falling from her lips; she could not even shed a tear for them as she realized that perhaps this was as far as she would come.  Keija doubled over, arms wrapping around herself as she fell forward, her vision going for the second time in a few short hours.

“ _Herald!”_

_“Keija!”_

_“Warm her up!”_

She felt arms grabbing her and picking her up, head lolling back and as she looked up through bleary eyes at the person who carried her, she could not help but smile, “ _So you greet me, eh Pa?”_

And she was out once more.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes: 
> 
> I've been very slow on this one.   
> Still haven't finished up my play through for Keija (I don't think I've touched her game since March I think....agh.)
> 
> Enjoy~


	26. March

**.March**

**4E of 210, Sun’s Height // 9.41 Dragon.**

_Shadows fall,_

_And hope has fled_

Keija’s ears perked at the voice of Mother Giselle, scarlet eyes glancing towards the woman as she stepped up beside her, voice ringing out into the camp and catching everyone’s attention. Keija watched as the people turned, edging closer, and some joining in with the woman.

When the people finished singing, Keija watched as they all seemed to sigh with relief, grateful smiles thrown in her direction before they all dispersed, resuming to their previous activities, though there was a bounce to their step.

“People need belief and hope,” the woman spoke up beside her, looking over at the people before looking up at Keija, “Sometimes there are things we must do to help people find that.”

“Are you suggesting I do something for them?” the Imperial asked, her face unreadable as she locked eyes with Mother Giselle. The woman dipped her head before glancing away, not really able to stare long into the woman’s eyes.

“You are as much as hope and belief they need, would you take that from them when it is what they need the most now?”

The mother left with that, going on to help her fellow priests with the others that were hurt or suffering from loss. The soft crunch of snow let her know that someone else was approaching her and Keija barely inclined her head in greeting to Solas.

“May I have a word?”

The corner of Keija’s mouth quirked up in an almost half smile, “Many have done so already, you are not going to say what I must do for others are you?”

Solas blinked, meeting Keija’s eyes head on as he shook his head slightly, “It is about our enemy.”

She smile, showing a little teeth, pupils nearly dilating into slits, “Lead on then, I will listen to this.”

+++

**4E of 210, Last Seed // 9.41 Dragon**

In the weeks that it took to make their way to Skyhold, Keija’s mind swirled with the information Solas had given her. It was an issue that would have to be looked on with a much more careful eye, especially if the apostate was correct.

To think that the Elvhen artifacts in this land could be compromised of such power, one that would have the ability to tear the world apart put Keija on edge – because if that was what they were dealing with, what she was going up against, she would have to be much more proactive in helping instead of just observing.

The closer Solas told her they were to Skyhold, the more she felt herself becoming much more in the people’s eyes (she did not like it and though perhaps she had started growing comfortable among them, they were asking for _more_ , what more did they want?). She could feel the eyes of the people closely on her person, how they looked at her in awe and wonder, as if they couldn’t believe that she had survived the creature that had created all this.

“Herald?”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line and Cullen realized his mistake, “Keija,” there was a pause, the blond commander taking in the loose way she held herself, leaning against the base of the mountain, content to hide in its shadow instead of helping the others. “Are you sure that it is right to trust in the apostate?”

“I do not trust anyone,” and didn’t that chafe a little, “But I am sure of what he says.”

And he had thought that she was warming up to them, it seems that recent events did more harm than good with this one. “I see, if I may ask another – “

“Be out with it.”

Cullen sighed, his right hand coming to lay over the handle of his sword that was on his left hip, “Were we not coming to an understanding?”

She blinked, turning to stare at him, eyes roving over him and making him feel as if he was being inspected and judged. Her eyes met his and he wondered what the woman before him had been through to be like this, “Your lot asks for a lot more.”

“Why are you like this?” he asked, not really realizing that he asked it aloud until she was pushing herself off where she was leaning against and stepping up against him. From how close she was he could see the depth of her scars, the way they pulled at the slight smirk she gave him, and the odd bit of freckles along the bridge of her nose.

She raised her left hand up to him, the mark kept calm by the ruins etched on the glove she wore, “I am still here because of this, Commander,” she began, her left hand closing into a fist, “Answer me this, would you be happy to be held to a name you have tried to deny, to be ignored by the people because they wish to continue as they please?”

Her eyes weren’t completely scarlet, there were slight flecks of a dark orange and yellow color, “Your lot use my name and the power I wield to your advantage,” she waved her marked hand above them, “Answer me this, do you see me as my own person or do you see the so-called Herald first?”

Cullen sighed, “It is hard when we do not even know you, when you are barely around to prove that you are your own person.”

He didn’t expect her to laugh, her head shaking at his answer, “I have always been my own Commander,” she answered, the way she looked at him not as harsh, her eyes a bit distant as she seemed to lose herself in whatever she was thinking. “I am no stranger to titles, but people often forget that I am just like them.”

And she walked away, following along the shadow of the mountain and disappeared from sight; leaving Cullen to think what else had the woman done in her life.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things were going fine and then they just got worse.  
> Keija's more than just not happy.  
> And it shows.


	27. Skyhold

**.Skyhold**

**4E of 210, Last Seed // 9.41 Dragon.**

Keija was impressed with the castle that Solas had led them to. As everyone settled down and began to scout the fortress to see what would be needed to fix it up and make it a much better place for the people, Keija wondered the halls, easily skirting around the piles of rubble.

The fortress was _old._ The thick, almost ancient magick that hung around it was what had kept it standing and quite frankly, Keija didn’t find everything as bad as she had before. Perhaps it was because she was being blanketed by something familiar or the place tugged at memories where she would enter ruins just as old and scout through them.

There was a feeling in her chest, that made her feel much lighter and the two that trailed behind her couldn’t help but notice the slight bounce in her step.

“She seems nicer, doesn’t she?” Dorian quietly said to Solas, the duo helping in dismantling any of the old magic traps that had been placed who knows how many years ago. The Tevinter mage watched the woman walk about with a peace and patience to her, that she seemed like a completely different person.

“Solas…” Keija called out to the Apostate before he could even respond, her head was cocked to the side as she over looked what seemed to be a very old and crumbling mural. “Would you know what this is?”

The mage pair approached, one making sure to clear the area around them, while the other tried to take in the stonework before them. Solas’ brow furrowed as he tried to take in and understand what story the mural was depicting. It was a cluster of the old common tongue and some other language that he couldn’t understand.

The story seemed to be that of a warrior, judging by the very person that had been inscribed, a horned helmet on their head and facing down what seemed to be a dragon. From what little he _could_ understand, the gist was that of a warrior who could take the power of a dragon.

“ _Dracan_ _áwæce_ ,” was the one word he could make out, one that had Keija glancing over at him before turning her gaze back on the wall, “Dragon Born, I think it translates too….”

“Yes, that is correct,” Dorian piped up from behind, looking over the mural as well and understanding more of what was being told than probably Solas could. “There are a few of these types of murals back in Tevinter,” he explained, crossing his arms against his chest, one hand coming up to stroke his chin, “They often speak of old dragon magic and a voice that could bring down the very heavens, but it’s a farce, no one has been able to replicate it.”

Keija turned to Dorian, who was not only looking at him in curiosity but he could _still_ feel himself being judged, how she seemed to be weighing her odds if she should bother or not, “Do you know enough yourself, I am…curious.”

“I am as well,” Solas added in, his own curiosity peeked at this new information; even if it was only lore, it was an interesting one, one that would serve a nice way to distract when things got frustrating.

Dorian didn’t bat an eye, a little willing to share this with them, if it got him to understand the blasted woman (and in her good graces), “I’ll see what I can do.”

+++

**.4E of 210, Hearthfire // 9.41 Dragon.**

The days in Skyhold turned into weeks, the Inquisition growing in size as more people came to stand underneath its banner. Scouts were sent out in groups to check the lands, to pick up on information that could be going around about Corypheus; some sent back needed herbs and foods, others brought materials to fix up Skyhold.

And though she had liked the place (she really did), Keija felt as if something else was coming for her. It was when Josephine was directing her towards a small throne that Keija stopped and stared, taken back by what she was being too, not at all caring that the people in the hall were staring right at her, judging every move she made.

Josephine stopped right beside the throne, turning to her and bowing at her, an arm coming out to gesture for her to come forward, “Inquisitor.”

Keija moved forward, feeling very out of place as she turned to the gathered crowd. She kept her silence as Josephine talked, Leliana coming up with a greatsword in hand. They said more words that she could not hear over the blood pounding loudly in her ear, she reached for the swords handle, easily lifting it out of Leliana’s hands and held it out in front of her, the point of it nearly getting stuck in the long carpet that had been rolled out.

“I only ask that you all remember my true name,” Keija spoke, voice level and echoing in the now quiet hall. She could feel her blood pounding in her veins, her heart speeding up, because _why_ of all people would they give _her_ such power? “For the better,” or the worst was left unsaid, “May we all get through this dark time.”

The last Dragonborn that had had power fall into their lap like this had become Emperor, had started a line that lasted centuries before it ended in the Oblivion Crisis.

Would she be like Tiber Septim or would she come to be like Potema ( _or even Alduin himself, who had done his duty because it was expected of him before he was derailed_ , _wanting more power, to be worshipped?_ )

_Nay_

A distant part of her thought, as she watched the people applaud and cheer, some praying and sending word to their Maker.

She would continue as she had been.

The shadows in the far corner of the room seemed to expand a little, a black winged creature crying out before it exited through one of the broken windows in the entrance.

Keija turned to Josephine and gave the woman a questioning look, the woman nodded and Keija walked down the steps and towards the room where Josephine’s place was.

_So many things possible, so little time._

_First things first, something to appease and get Nocturnal to stay away from me._

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! I've just hit a rough patch and I've been reading over this story lately and I got inspired once again for it. I still need to finish the game so I can at least know what paths Keija will be taking.
> 
> Anyways! Enjoy!


End file.
